Broken: Scenes from the Sequel
by MockingJayFlyingFree
Summary: "It's both frightening and exhilarating. This could take some time getting used to – thinking of Peeta as my lover. But now he is. "My lover," I say, as if testing the word." The sequel to "Broken". A series of scenes, set between the final chapter of Mockingjay and the epilogue. How did they get to the point where they lived happily ever after?
1. The morning after

**_When I finished writing Broken, I intended it to be, well, finished. I have to be inspired when I write – I get an idea, and it just won't leave my head until I've written it. It can be pretty intense, but once I'm finished, it's over. But then I got PMs and reviews asking me to write a sequel… And you are right. There is still so much that is missing, even though I made sure they got around to doing the dirty deed at last! ;)_**

**_In other words: I'm still inspired by the Hunger Games universe._**

**_So, first of all, I've changed my pen name, because Notwritinganymore is clearly not appropriate anymore. ;) _**

**_Secondly, I call this story "scenes from the sequel", not "the sequel". Which means that it won't be a story with a beginning and an end, like Broken, but mainly scenes, pieces here and there, probably written independently from each other. I might even go back and forth in time (but I'll let you know where we are on the timeline if necessary). I may also change the POV from one chapter to the next, but I'll indicate clearly if the POV changes from that of Katniss. I could've posted the stories separately, I guess, but I'm posting them all together to make them all easier to find._**

**_I'm continuing on my own slightly AU story, Broken, which I recommend that you read first – you can find it here: _** s/9426259/1/Broken**_. In short, I left off after Peeta and Katniss finally (after 17 chapters LOL) got around to have sex for the first time. My additions to the original story arch are mainly that Peeta's hijacking was strongly targeting his sexuality and his sexual desire for Katniss, which left him very damaged, plus Haymitch was sold by the Capitol, just like Finnick. _**

**_I'm not sure where these scenes are going, but we'll see. I started off with a K rating, but I quickly realized I might as well rate it M right away. Hey, they are two teenagers in love, chances are they won't be doing it just that once. ;)_**

**_So the first scene is set pretty much where I left them in Broken– on the morning after their first time._**

**SCENE ONE: THE NEXT MORNING**

I wake slowly from a deep sleep. My body feels so heavy, sinking into the mattress, becoming one with it. Even opening my eyelids seems like too much effort. There's a strange flapping sound, and it takes a while for my muddled brain to register what it is – the curtains flapping in the wind. My nose is ice cold. I open my eyes, blinking against the winter sun which is shining through the window. It's been snowing through in through the window, and I wonder why we didn't close it last night. The snow has started to melt there on the floor, even though the room is ice cold. It's nice and warm in bed, though.

Peeta is sleeping next to me. He's lying on his stomach, head turned towards me, he's been drooling on the pillow. I smile, I want to touch him, but I also don't want to wake him. He looks so content, so peaceful.

My body aches.

Content… It comes back to me, I wonder what took my sleepy brain so long. How could I forget what happened last night? I lie perfectly still, holding my breath. Wondering why everything feels the same, yet why it also feels so different. Am I different? Is he?

Tears spring to my eyes as I remember the look in his eyes last night, afterwards, holding me tight, as if he never wanted to let me go. Love, passion, pain, trust, hope, joy, awkwardness, curiosity.

I can't help myself, I reach out my hand to touch his cheek lightly. He needs to shave. I like his three-day stubble, it makes him look sexy in a sort of roughish way, but I think there are more than a few parts of my body that are now raw and sore because of them. I make a mental note to ask him to shave before we think about doing this again. As I shift my body, I wince, and suddenly realize that a repeat performance this morning, at least, is definitely off.

Peeta's eyes flutter open at my gentle touch, his eyes are so intensely blue in the cold winter sun. He doesn't look surprised, like me, he immediately smiles at me, lazily, sated. "Hey beautiful," he says.

I can't help but break out in a huge smile. I'm not used to being called beautiful. I've never regarded myself as beautiful – neither before the Games, nor after them, and certainly not after being burned. My body has been merely a functional item, strong and agile enough to hunt, bringing in food, preventing me from starving to death. Winning the Hunger Games. My body has known so much hunger and pain. Beauty has always seemed like a superficial, unnecessary quality, one I never considered.

But being with Peeta has taught me things I never knew about my body – a hunger of a different kind. Feelings I never knew existed. How his fingers, his body, his cock, could make me forget everything, until he is the only one who exists in my universe. So when he tells me that I'm beautiful, instead of making me feel embarrassed, or even angry, it makes me so grateful and happy. When did I become so weak and shallow that I want to be pretty for Peeta Mellark?

"You do know you're pretty biased, right?" I tease him.

He laughs. "Yeah, but that's my privilege as your lover," he whispers, huskily, leaning towards me, kissing my neck, lightly grazing it with his teeth. My body shudders deliciously.

Lover.

Now that's different.

It's both frightening and exhilarating. This could take some time to get used to – thinking of Peeta as my lover.

But now he is.

"My lover," I say, as if testing the word.

Peeta grins so widely I think the smile is about to go all around his head. His hair is a mess, sticking up in spikes. He looks so handsome like this, in the morning, still sleepy, all happiness. He deserves to be happy. He deserves it so much. And I, selfish, broken Katniss, is the one who's going to make him happy. That's scary.

"Yeah." He reaches out for me, brings my head in close to his, kisses me deeply, sensually, lazily. Our tongues touch, tasting, dancing, sharing. His other hand goes lower, stopping briefly over my breast, then continuing over my belly, down towards my sex. As his hand ventures between my legs, I whimper in pain and sit up, which makes the pain worse. I feel raw and skinless, and there's something that seems… dried on the inside of my thighs, it's as if my body is sticking to the bed sheets.

Peeta sits up, too, suddenly serious. "Are you okay?" I nod, lips pressed, pale. "Are you in pain?" I hesitate, then nod again. "Can I take a look?" I blush furiously – it's not as if he's never seen me naked before, of course, but this is different. Never have I felt this vulnerable. "Lie down," he says, and I do as he says. I distantly wonder when I, Katniss Everdeen, hunter, the girl on fire, suddenly started taking orders about lying down and spreading my legs, from a baker son. His fingers touch me, very lightly, on the inside of my thigh, over the dried something. His blue eyes meet mine. "You're sore. You should've told me I hurt you like this, I…" He looks so guilty, it's actually endearing.

"It's okay," I say, with a small smile.

"No, it's not."

"It was inevitable."

"No, it wasn't! I could've been more careful, taking it slower… We could've used several nights, not… everything had to happen last night. I didn't have to go… all the way inside. I should've been more careful."

I remember how he thrust into me, hard, a reflex reaction to my walls clenching around him. "It's not as if I was protesting, was it?" I tease him. I remember how vocal and wild I was yesterday, not sure if I should be embarrassed or proud. "It was perfect. Exactly the way it should be. I'll heal, I've had worse injuries."

Of course he knows, but none of my injuries have been caused by love and passion.

"I'll clean you up," he says, and goes into the bathroom. I look at myself, well, what I can see, anyway. I can only feel the soreness, which is hidden from my view, but I can see a mess of mostly dried blood, but also dried semen on my thighs and on the bedsheet. No wonder it felt like I was sticking to the bed.

Peeta comes back with some wet cloth wipes. He cleans me up, taking great care not to hurt me any more than he has to. This act of intense intimacy and care brings tears to my eyes. I feel so weak, and I, Katniss Everdeen, hate feeling weak. But somehow it's okay. Peeta's taking care of me. It's been so long since someone took care of me. It feels good. Safe.

Finally he's done. "Thank you," I say.

He kisses me on the lips, feathery light. "Thank you," he answers. "Last night was… wow."

"Wow?"

"Yeah, wow."

"Do you want to do it again?" I whisper.

"You bet," he whispers back, hot in my ear. "I want to do it again, all day, every day, every night, in every way possible." He leans back. "But not until you've healed up properly."

I can't hold back a small sigh of relief.

I need to go to the bathroom. Getting up hurts, and when Peeta worriedly asks: "Can you walk?" and actually tries to support me as if I'm a cripple, I shrug him off.

"It's not like my legs were shot off, Peeta," I hiss. "I'll be all right."

"Okay. Just go back to bed when you're done, I'll make us breakfast."

That certainly sounds like a good idea. I put on one of his old t-shirts I find in the bathroom, it's been used and smells of him. When he comes back with a tray of food and what can only be warm chocolate, I'm sitting on the bed, underneath the covers, waiting for him. "Do you have any idea how sexy you look right now?" he says, and I blush. "In my old t-shirt, your hair all fuzzy, heavy eyelids and flushed skin from being fucked by me?" I blush even deeper, and don't tell him that my face is flushed because I just washed it. Who knew that Peeta would say things like this? This seems like a whole new man. Peeta, a dirty talker?

I thought I knew him well, but obviously there are still things to be learned about him.

I can't wait to find out what they are. I can definitely get used to this.

We have breakfast in bed, which is another first for us. The bread is from yesterday, as Peeta has had other things on his mind than baking this morning, but it doesn't matter. Good company, yesterday's bread, hot chocolate – I can't remember a happier morning since… Before my father died.

Don't go there, Katniss. Don't ruin this perfect morning.

We're both starving, and we eat mostly in silence, only interrupted by an occasional kiss. After we're both done, we lie down on the bed, he's holding his arms around me while I play with the few blond hairs on his chest.

Then someone's pounding on the door. I sigh. I know who it is, it can pretty much be only one person. After all, there aren't that many people in District 12 anymore, and not many of them are likely to come visit us without prior arrangement.

Haymitch.

"He'll go away," Peeta whispers, as if Haymitch can hear him outside. Then he nods towards the still open window.

"Hey, lovebirds? I know you're in there! Open up!"

"Don't go!" I hiss.

"Do I have to break in the door?" He sounds drunk, but not more than usual. It is, I conclude after a quick look at my watch, nearly 11. He's had plenty of time to drink already.

Peeta sighs, and quickly puts on a pair of jeans, going downstairs to open the door. I can hear that Haymitch comes inside, but I can't hear what they're talking about, their voices being muffled by the doors separating us. I decide to get out of bed. I find some clean underwear and my jeans – putting them on makes me grit my teeth - quickly braid my hair and take a look in the mirror to make sure I look more or less presentable and hopefully not as thoroughly post-coital as I actually feel, and I go downstairs.

The stairs. Damn. Forgot about them. I take a deep breath and try not to let my pain show on my face. Peeta and Haymitch are standing by the door, I can't find out what they've been talking about, because they both stop talking when they see me venture down the stairs, walking like I'm treading on glass.

I'm such a horrible actor.

I curse myself for this stupid idea, why didn't I just stay in bed?

"Good morning, Haymitch," I say with a fake smile.

"It's not morning, girl on fire, it's nearly noon," he says with a smirk. His narrows his eyes. He's watching me like I'm a bug under the microscope. A dangerous smile plays on his lips. He cocks an eyebrow. "Looks like someone got lucky last night."

Peeta blushes deeply.

"You could've been more careful, Peeta. She can hardly walk. But I guess I was right about the two of you, she can't even walk straight. Told you so, didn't I? Congratulations, son," he says, shaking Peeta's hand. Peeta looks mortified, and I just want to disappear through the floor, but unfortunately, the floor does not open to swallow me. At least I'm finally down the stairs, thankfully.

"Shut up, Haymitch," I hiss.

Haymitch comes towards me, and when he gives me a hug it's so surprising I don't slap him or even push him away. He kisses my hair. I meet his eyes afterwards, and I'm surprised to see that they are full of tears. "I'm so happy for you," he says.

I don't trust my voice to answer.

"Well, I'll leave you two lovebirds alone," he says, walking through the door. "You don't touch her for a couple of days, stud. And if you want some tips on how to handle a lady, let me know, I know a fair number of ways to please a woman."

Peeta is now flushing so deeply it looks like all the blood of his body is in his face.

"That was… weird," I say, after Haymitch has left.

"Awkward."

"Yeah."

I'm a bit annoyed that Haymitch actually was right about me not being able to walk straight afterwards, not to mention him being here to see it. But there's no way of keeping secrets from him, anyway, he knows me too well.

"Want to go back to bed?" Peeta asks.

I look up the stairs, considering how it felt to walk down them, and shudder. No thanks.

I end up on the couch in the living room with a blanket over me and another cup of warm chocolate in my hands, while Peeta lights a fire in the fireplace. The room is soon warm and cozy, and we snuggle underneath the blanket. We spend the day there, talking, reading, kissing, eating. It's been so long since we just spent a day together like this, with no plans, no angst, no problems. The last time must've been… I struggle to remember, it must've been the day before we left for the Quarter Quell.

I shut that thought out.

Today, it's just us. Katniss and Peeta. Lovers.

The pain between my legs slowly subsides, I'm still feeling sore, but it feels a lot better than it did this morning already. I tell him, shyly, and he looks relieved. I can tell he's still feeling bad about hurting me.

I fall asleep in his arms at one point a few hours after dinner. I half wake when he carries me upstairs, so carefully, I don't know if he's afraid to wake me or to hurt me or both. He puts me down on the bed, pulls the covers up over me, and slips in behind me, holding around me.

I know he'll never let go.

I fall asleep.

_**Like it? Hate it? Have any ideas for scenes you'd like me to explore? Let me know! I love feedback. :)**_


	2. A surprise visit

_**Guess who comes to visit Peeta and Katniss? Set the following summer, approximately 7-8 months after the first chapter.**_

One day, when I come home, my mother sits on the porch. Her suitcase is next to her. She's dressed in a light blue dress, reading a newspaper.

I'm so surprised I drop my squirrels to the ground.

"Mom?"

She looks up, smiling when she sees me. She surely must've registered the look of complete and utter shock on my face, but still gives me a somewhat awkward hug. "It's so good to see you, Katniss."

"What are you doing here?" I blurt out. I know it's rude, but it's not every day I find my mother, who I'm barely speaking to, on my porch.

"I, uh… Decided it was time to come and visit."

Considering I haven't seen her in nearly a year, that's pretty interesting. Not to mention it's even more interesting that she didn't even bother to tell me that she was coming.

"Ever heard of calling to tell me you were coming? Or sending a letter?"

My mom actually blushes now. She looks down. "I just… Wasn't sure if I was strong enough. I figured that if I didn't tell you, then you wouldn't be disappointed if I didn't… manage to go through with the visit." She looks at the evening primrose bushes Peeta planted. They are in full bloom now. I know what she's thinking. I've become used to living here, in the house that the three of us shared, however briefly. Sometimes I can still think, just for a split second, that I hear Prim's feet running on the second floor. I expect to hear her light, happy voice greeting me when I open the front door.

Then I remember that she's not here anymore, and the sound of running feet disappears.

For my mother, who also has to fight with her already existing demons, namely the loss of my father, it must be even worse. I'm all she has, I suddenly realize, and frankly, she doesn't even really have me.

My mother isn't all alone in the world, but she's not far from it.

"Want to come inside?" Mom nods gratefully, and I unlock the door, helping her inside with the suitcase. I realize this means she probably expects to stay here, and just thinking about it gives me a headache. I give her a glass of water, and I go back to the task I'd originally planned to do, which is skinning and gutting the squirrels. I've done this a hundred times before. I work quickly with the knife. My mother looks a bit pale – she's a healer, and she's not scared of blood, but she's always been squeamish about meat and dead animals. I used to think she weak because of it.

With a quick cut with the knife, a bit too hard so that it slams into the wooden chopping board underneath, I decapitate the squirrel. That's great, Katniss, take it out on the poor squirrel. My mother jolts at the sound. The squirrel head rolls on the floor. Neither of us make a move to pick it up. It's shot through the eye, of course, all of them are.

I'm not much of a cook, but Peeta makes a pretty good squirrel pie. I just never thought I'd have my mother over for squirrel pie tonight.

I try to think of something to say, something safe. I'm the host, after all, I should probably be doing something to make her feel comfortable.

I'm a terrible host.

"So, uhm… How have you been doing?" Bad choice, Katniss, that's so not a safe thing to say, not to your mother.

My mother actually lights up, though. "Good. Good. I've been helping set up the new hospital in District Four. We're pretty much done now, it's running smoothly, but I've been offered another job there."

Oh. Perhaps this is what this visit is about.

"Are you going to take it?"

"Yes." Her eyes meet mine, firmly. I'm not used to this, I'm used to my mother avoiding eye contact, or glazing over.

"So you're not going back to District 12, then?" Another question that can hardly qualify as being safe. What am I doing here, am I deliberately trying to piss off my mother, destroy what little I have left of a relationship with her?

Now she looks down. It takes a while for her to answer. Finally, she shakes her head. "No." Another long pause. "Too many ghosts." She looks at the wall, and I follow her gaze to the photo of Prim. My eyes fill with tears, I quickly brush them away before she sees them.

Suddenly I hear heavy steps in the hallway, and I know it's Peeta. I have a moment of panic, I haven't even told my mother that we are together, and I have no idea how much she knows, if she's talked to anyone. I basically have no contact with anyone outside of District 12, and neither does Peeta. I have no idea what Haymitch is up to, though.

Peeta must've missed the suitcase standing in the hallway, because he shouts "Honey, I'm home" as if I'm some kind of perfect little wife waiting for her husband to come home from work, when I'm in fact just his messed up girlfriend and he's the one who does most of the cooking and cleaning. He's back from the bakery. "Katniss, I'm… Oh, hello, Mrs Everdeen." Peeta can't hide his surprise, and for once he's at a loss for words. Which doesn't happen very often, he is, after all, Peeta with the silver tongue. But he quickly regains it.

"How are you, Mrs Everdeen?" Before I know it, he's made my mother tea and scones. My offer of a glass of water suddenly appears less than welcoming in comparison. Peeta and my mother chat about harmless, safe things. The weather, her dress, the scones, her choice of tea. I envy Peeta his ability to have an unstrained, normal conversation with my mother. He even picks up the forgotten squirrel head from the floor.

My mother's not much of an actor, I guess that's one of the few things I got from her. I can tell she really wants to ask a question, but doesn't really know how to. So after a lengthy discussion about medicinal plants with Peeta, she finally asks, hesitantly: "So… Are you two living together here now?"

I exchange glances with Peeta. "We… Uhm, yes," I finally answer. It's hard to meet her gaze, but I make an effort to. "I thought you… knew?"

My mother shakes her head. "No, I… Don't talk to anyone from District 12. I've been so busy, and…" she trails off, and I understand what she's not managing to say. She couldn't handle it. She has no idea how I've been doing. I could still be howling at the moon like a rabid dog in matted hair with the skin peeling off my body for all she knew. I suddenly feel abandoned. Again. And I'm so angry with myself, because I'd sworn she wouldn't get to hurt me again, to leave me. I thought I'd made myself independent from her.

"Yes, Mrs Everdeen, we are living together. We've been living together since last fall." If Peeta's nervous, he's hiding it well. But judging from the way his knuckles are whitening as he's steading himself against the kitchen counter he is nervous. Perhaps even scared. He found out, after our return from the first Hunger Games, that my mother is a force not to be taken lightly when it comes to her daughter's relationships.

"Oh, that's… Quite a long time. Are you married?"

I think my heart stops for just one second.

"No." Peeta's voice is as steady as ever.

"Engaged?"

"No."

"Oh." My mom takes another sip of tea. I can't imagine that my mother lived with my father before they got married. I bet they didn't even kiss. Whereas Peeta and I have been doing it like rabbits for half a year.

There's a very awkward pause.

I have to say something. Say something, Katniss, anything.

"Thanks for the birth control shot."

OH NO, not that! Crapcrapcrap, what were you thinking, Katniss?

Peeta's choking on his muffin, he's coughing, spilling his cup of tea in the process. I just want to die. My mother, on the other hand, just lifts an eyebrow. I thought she was a bad actor, but why is she so calm now? Why doesn't she freak out? Did she expect to find us together after all? I just can't balance two very conflicting thoughts in my head: One that she seems to expect us to be married, the other that she made sure Haymitch gave me a contraceptive shot. So on the one hand she expected me to be married first, on the other she expects me to have premarital sex? This is getting too confusing, stop thinking about it, Katniss. Why did you bring this up?

"You're welcome. Do you need another?"

"I, uhm…" I think back. I do the math. It's been nearly a year.

Crap.

"I, uh… Yes, please."

I have no self-respect. None!

Was this why she came here?

Peeta had nearly gone back to normal before her second question, but now he seems to be choking on his scones again. He's blushing furiously now, and for once he's at a loss for words.

"Great. Please remind me to give one to you before I leave."

"Uhm… okay."

This must be the strangest conversation I've ever had with my mother.

"Mrs Everdeen, I'm…" Peeta, ever the gentleman, probably feels that he has to explain this to my mother. I'm dreading he'll just make it worse. No words can save this situation. "I'm… I love your daughter. I would never… take advantage of her." Oh yes, you do, Peeta. Pretty often several times a day. "I…" He doesn't know how to continue, he's blushing furiously. My mother is not stupid, I guess it's pretty obvious we're sleeping together and have done so for quite some time.

She pats his hand, then takes another sip of tea. "Don't worry, Peeta. I know you love her. And you are adults now. I didn't come here to interrogate you on the… intimacy of your relationship. I can tell, though, that your relationship has changed, in many ways."

She looks at me, and I know what she means. The last time she saw me, my relationship to Peeta was pretty much non-existent. We weren't talking, we weren't even in the same room. We were both burn victims, so unstable and scarred both inside and out that we were barely hanging on. The contrast to what she's meeting now, two adults living together, living what seems like a pretty normal life and having a real need for contraceptives, is immense. She knows he loved me once, fiercely, but that was in another life. My own feelings were much more complicated. She has had little reason to think that I love him. Does she think I'm the one taking advantage of him? I finally realize I should probably say something. "Yes, it… has." I don't know how to continue. Finally I just blurt it out, the truth for once: "I love him, mom."

I can tell this takes her by surprise. She looks at me for a long time, her blue eyes wide open. Then, suddenly, she breaks out in a huge grin. I haven't seen her smile like this since before my dad dies, and she even gives me a hug. I'm so stunned that the only thing I can do is return it. It's short, and a bit awkward, but it's still a hug. She smells of soap and sunshine and herbs, like she did when I was a child. I have to swallow to get rid of the lump in my throat.

She then gives Peeta a hug, too. "I guess I should welcome you into the family," she says, and it's all I can do not to laugh bitterly. That's quite a family. But I don't, after all, she's my mother, and I don't want to hurt her. At least not now. Sometimes I want to hurt her. I've said and done things in the past that I know have hurt her – it's been a long time since I really took her seriously. Sometimes, when I look at my mother, all I can remember is the hunger, eating up every single emotion in my life, everything that I was, reducing me to an animal-like creature desperate for food. And Prim's huge, blue, starving eyes. Knowing I couldn't protect her, knowing she was as hungry as me, was even worse than being hungry myself.

And all my mother did, was cry and retreat into her own world. She watched her children die of starvation, slowly, day by day we grew weaker. Yet she did nothing.

"Katniss?"

I must've lost track of the conversation for a minute, thinking about those dark days back when I was technically a child, but fighting for our survival as the only true adult in the household.

"I'll show your mother her room," Peeta says, I can tell from the way he looks at me that he understands what I was just thinking of wasn't good.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

We have dinner that night, and I'm shocked to find out that Peeta has invited Haymitch, too. Peeta and my mother whip up a fantastic dinner with the admittedly somewhat meagre contents of our fridge. Here's a secret that only people who have starved know: Squirrel goes with anything.

Haymitch and I sit by the table and watch the two of them cook. My mother and Peeta seem to get along really well. Hearing my mother laugh is almost surreal. Haymitch is drinking white liquor, but he's not overly drunk. He's even wearing nice clothes, at least a lot better than normal, and he's clearly had a bath and shaved. I secretly wonder if he has a crush on my mother, he's really been on his best behavior tonight.

We finish our meal of roasted squirrels with a fresh garden salat, herbs and walnuts. Peeta's whipped up a cake for desert, and I don't think I've had a meal as good as this in months. No one's brought up any sensitive topics, such as birth control or dead people.

But it had to happen sooner or later, I guess.

It all begins when my mother says to Haymitch: "Thanks for looking after them."

I snort. So much for "looking after us", he's been dead drunk and avoiding us most of the time - that is, when he hasn't been assaulting me with birth control shots or insulting my lack of sexual experience. Peeta gives me a warning look, but I just can't hold back: "Yeah, he's been a real helper." My voice is dripping with sarcasm.

Haymitch finishes his glass, and pours himself another drink. "Sweetheart…" he begins, but I cut him off.

"No, Haymitch, I'm not your "sweetheart". And I know you try, in that helpless, drunken way of yours, to help, and sometimes you even do. But don't take any credit for Peeta and me not killing ourselves or each other, because you don't deserve it. We've had to pick up the pieces of our ruined lives all on our own."

Implicitly, this includes my mother, too. And she knows it. "Katniss…" she begins, but I cut her off. I've had enough of all this sweet-talking, pretending everything is okay, playing happy little family.

"It's not **enough** to tell an alcoholic to give your daughter a birth control shot, I guess I should add your only **surviving** daughter, and think that your job is done, and then go off and disappear in another district. It's just not good enough. You know what the worst thing is? If Peeta and I were ever to have a baby, I wouldn't know the first thing what to do or how to behave, because I just don't know how a normal family **works**!"

I slam my glass on the table with a bang. The silence that follows is heavy and uncomfortable. Peeta looks down on his food, Haymitch finishes yet another glass of white liquor, and my mother just looks at me, with tears in her eyes.

I've shed enough tears, she won't make me cry again.

"I know, Katniss. And I'm sorry." Hearing my mother actually apologizing is a surprise. She's rarely willing to talk about our relationship at all. "I know I abandoned you when you were little, and your father died. I was there physically, but I abandoned you in spirit. All I wanted was to follow him." Damn, she's going to make me cry after all. Hearing my mother pretty much confess that her love for her two daughters wasn't enough to keep her alive is perhaps the most heartbreaking thing I've ever heard. "You are the only reason we survived, physically, and placing such a burden on the shoulders of a young girl isn't something a mother should do. Ever. I'm genuinely sorry and ashamed that I did that."

"Where are the cameras?" Haymitch mutter. "This is starting to sound like a Capitol reality show."

I shoot him an angry look, and he shuts up.

"I've tried to make up for it, but it was too late. You'd lost all respect for me, Katniss, and I don't blame you for it. You didn't need me, and you knew it. I couldn't make you trust me anymore, and I often felt that you thought that Prim was your only real family." Now, that's not far from the truth. Well, Prim and Gale. "It's not easy getting through to you, Katniss. You decide which people you like, and which people you don't like, and once you've made up your mind, you're almost impossible to sway. I'm not like you. I'm not a born survivor, like you. We've never seen eye to eye, but I've always loved you." Yeah, but not enough. "And after Prim died, after you and Peeta were both so horribly burned, I knew that there wasn't really anything I could do, because you didn't trust me. I couldn't bring you back, you had to find your own way. I also knew that you had to go back to District 12 to heal, but I couldn't live there, I just… couldn't. So yes, again I chose my own sanity over your well-being, but I didn't think you'd want me there. I asked Haymitch to look after you, which was perhaps not ideal, but it was the best I could do. He understands you and Peeta in a way that I can never hope to do. I had to let you go, cut you loose, and hope that you'd find your way back to the world of the living."

We are both crying now. "I did," I say, between heavy sobs.

"We did," Peeta corrects me, holding my hand.

"I know the birth control shot was overstepping the boundaries of your privacy, but I figured there was a real chance you would find back together, and that you two having a baby under these circumstances was probably the last thing you needed. So I gave it to Haymitch, asking him to give it to you if he thought you'd need it."

"And boy did the need it," Haymitch says, and I wonder if he sleeps with his bedroom window open. My mother chooses to ignore his comment, for which I'm grateful.

"I know I can never make up for what I did, but I came here because I really want to try to salvage what we can of our relationship. Whatever little is left. I love you, Katniss, but loving you is so hard. You shut me out, and I don't blame you for it. But if you're willing to try, I'll try, too."

Then she excuses herself, thanks Peeta for a lovely meal, leaves the table and walks upstairs to her room.

"Well, this has been enough fun for one night," Haymitch says, finishing his glass of liquor, he says goodbye and goes home.

Peeta and I do the dishes together in silence.

When we're in bed later that night, he just holds me, like he always does when I'm upset. He knows when to stay silent, it's one of the things I love about him.

Into the darkness, I say: "I think I'll try."

Peeta kisses my hair, I think he's smiling.


	3. The box

**Thank you so much for your reviews! They keep me writing, so keep them coming! :D**

**In this chapter, we're going back in time again, to the day after Their First Time. This one is written in Peeta's POV – it's the first time I write things from his perspective, so I'm a bit nervous about it. Plus I'm not used to writing from a man's POV. But here it goes.**

I hate that I hurt Katniss.

She says it's okay, but I don't think me hurting Katniss can ever be okay. I've hurt her too many times, and to do it yet again – even, or perhaps especially, in an act of love – makes me feel sick to my stomach. Cleaning up the dried blood, seeing her struggle to even walk down the stairs and then face Haymitch... I've cursed myself repeatedly for losing control, my lack of experience making me unable to hold back as much as I should have.

"Did it look like I wasn't enjoying myself?" she asks later, when I'm trying to broach the subject of how sorry I am. We're lying on the couch drinking warm chocolate. She's smiling with a secret smile.

I blush. "You did seem… Pretty happy about it… After a while."

Katniss looks like a cat that's caught a mouse. "I did feel pretty happy about it. You were pretty amazing, you know." I try not to smile a big, goofy grin, but it's impossible to hold it back, because she's making me feel ridiculously pleased with myself despite it all.

When Katniss falls asleep on the couch, I get up, carefully.

She doesn't wake. I take a deep breath, and walk out the back door. I sit down on the steps, next to two evening primrose bushes. They are bare now, covered in snow. I know I'm hidden from view from the neighbors. The sun is setting.

Suddenly, my hands start shaking.

I think back of last night, of the way Katniss looked when I entered her – pain mixed with love and trust. She opens her mouth, and bares fangs, dripping with blood. She's out to get me. Her eyes change, suddenly they are filled with deadly fire, and her cunt is twisting around my cock, tightening, hurting me, it feels like she'll tear it off. I scream, but I'm unable to pull out, trapped. She will take away everything that I am.

My eyes snap open, I'm panting, my body is covered in cold sweat.

They've destroyed this, too. Managed to infiltrate even the memories of the most powerful and wonderful moment in my life. I suddenly realize that tears are running down my cheeks.

I can't let them destroy it.

Can't.

Fight it, Peeta.

Fight.

I close my eyes again, force my breathing to slow. As soon as I close my eyes, the vision returns. It's all too familiar. I've spent so many nights awake, painting furiously until I'm so exhausted I'm practically unconscious, because I just couldn't face those fiery eyes behind my eyelids.

Not to mention my own need for them.

I force myself to breathe steadily, remembering the techniques Dr Aurelius taught me. Analyze it, Peeta. Analyze. Put your fears and feelings aside. Is it **real**? Look for signs that it's not real. What doesn't fit into the picture? How do you differentiate real from not real?

Analyzing it, coldly and detached, makes it easier to ignore the deadly grip on my cock, to keep the fiery eyes from consuming me. It took me countless hours of therapy to be able to analyze those fiery eyes without screaming my head off.

The picture is too bright. Yet it's slightly fuzzy in the lower right corner. The first time I recognized that the right corner was a giveaway was a breakthrough. The first night after Dr Aurelius helped me identify it, was the first night I was able to fall sleep without being knocked unconscious by intravenous drugs.

Then I see them. Another dead giveaway. The green bubbles. Tiny, tiny, I have to look really hard to see them. I have to know what to look for. But they are there, they are swimming in her eyes, mingling with the fire.

Not real. Not real. Not real.

I open my eyes again, forcing myself to stay calm.

It's not real.

Then what is?

Me struggling with taking off her bra. I focus on that picture. Going through it, examining every detail closely, including my own ragged breath and nearly painful arousal. Clear. No fuzzy corner. No bubbles.

So real.

The taste of her when I go down of her, making me feel dizzy, her screaming and panting and writhing underneath my tongue.

Real.

Burying my cock inside her, slowly, her soft whimpering, the way her body tenses, clenching around me, then thrusting hard, hurting her. Now that's a memory that makes me stop, it's so crucial that I have to go over it, again and again, examining every detail to make sure I can categorize it correctly. Real or not real? However closely I search, there aren't any bubbles. Her eyes are filled with tears, not fire. The picture does seem fuzzy, but it's not just one corner, it's all of it. I take a shaky breath, and open my eyes.

It's real.

And I know I have to file that memory, store it properly, in the "real box" Dr Aurelius helped me construct. It's where I keep the memories I have to revisit, when I encounter situations or memories that I can't trust or don't know if are real. Then I take those memories up from the box, revisit them, go over every detail. Hold on to the fact that they come from the safe box. Focus on the real memories, not the twisted, false, implanted ones. At first, only the memories that Dr Aurelius put into it for me were in the real box. Then, with his help, I was able to store memories in it on my own. First just tiny ones, like the first flower in spring, the smell of soap. Then gradually they grew bigger. My father baking bread. Katniss volunteering at the reaping.

This is a huge one.

I revisit the memory, reveling in the feeling of Katniss' cunt closing around my cock, but not twisting, never painful, just hot and so wet and almost too tight. Her whimpering, and my own worry and helplessness knowing I've hurt her, the all-consuming love I feel for her at that moment, her absolute trust in me, the passion making me unable to stop. Then how she goes wild underneath me, falls apart, how we fall together. I take the memory, wrap it in cotton to keep it safe, it's so precious, and place it in the gray cardboard box marked "real". The drawer is placed next to another box which looks exactly the same, only it's marked "not real".

I feel confident now, that the memory has been placed in the right box.

I open my eyes, breathing deeply. It's a memory I know I'll have to revisit very frequently.

I'm hard, so hard it's nearly painful. My cock is straining against my jeans, wanting to be set free.

It's cold outside. I shiver, I've been out here for too long. I go inside again, finally daring to breathe in the same air that Katniss is breathing. She's lying on the couch, sleeping like a baby. I kneel in front of her, staring at her, drinking in every detail. Examining it for signs that it might belong in the "not real" box.

In the soft light of dusk there is only love.

I know I can't touch her. For a moment I consider jerking off in the bathroom, but decide against it. Instead I lift her up, carefully to avoid waking her up, and carry her upstairs to our bedroom. Walking downstairs was painful for her, I don't want to cause her any more pain today.

Real. It was real.

I put her down on the bed, kiss her hair, pull the covers up over her. Her eyes flicker open for just a few seconds. There is no fire there, only sleep. She looks a bit confused, then smiles a secret, slow smile, and falls asleep again.

I lie down behind her, feeling her warmth cocoon me as I hold her.

Real. It is real.

**I originally had some smut planned for this chapter, but suddenly it turned angsty, so you'll get some smut another day, I guess. ;) The smutty plan I had in mind was to write about their second time together, but I'm not sure about which POV to choose. What do you think?**


	4. Expectations

**This chapter is set just after the previous one, it's still written in Peeta's POV.**

I follow Haymitch's advice, and don't touch Katniss for a few days. Well, obviously I touch her, but not in a sexual way.

I think I need some time, too. The second night I have a horrible nightmare. I woke up screaming, and Katniss looked genuinely scared when I ran to the bathroom and threw up. She tentatively asked me about my nightmare afterwards, but I couldn't answer, couldn't tell.

There are some nightmares she can just never know about. Never.

I'm afraid she'd never even look at me again if she knew.

After the sleepless night, we take an afternoon nap, snuggling close, kissing lightly. Not hungrily like before, just lovingly and lazily. She massages my back, getting rid of all the tense knots. We fall asleep like that, she's lying behind me, holding me, our fingers intertwined.

When I wake up, I'm not sure if Katniss is already awake or not. She's still lying with her back towards me, I can feel her regular breath on the hand which is holding protectively around her. Her chest is rising and falling, but it's just fast enough to make me wonder if she's really awake, just trying to pretend to be asleep. "Katniss?" I whisper. I can tell that she's awake by how the frequency of her breathing increases almost imperceptibly. "Are you still in pain?"

She stiffens in my arms. I can tell she misunderstood. "No, no, not like that," I quickly assure her. "I'm not going to… I just really want to know. I still feel bad about hurting you.

She turns around now in my arms, lying on my arm. "Honestly?" she asks. I nod. "Okay… I'm much better. But I don't think I'm… ready for a repeat… performance quite yet." She blushes.

I kiss her forehead. "I didn't mean that, Katniss, I really didn't… I just worry about you." I can tell she doesn't like me worrying about her. But how can I not worry? The more I learn to know Katniss, the more intensely I grow to love her, the more I worry. In the arena, I was worried about her life, every single second of every single day. But now it's almost even worse. There isn't anyone around who's planning to break her neck or slit her stomach open at every opportunity – at least not that we know of – but the thought of losing her scares me more than I can ever tell her, and it's a common ingredient in my many nightmares. I'm afraid of scaring her away, that our combined burden of trauma will prove too much for her to handle.

Not that I could blame her.

"You don't have to worry about me," she answers, predictably. Katniss is more predictable than she is probably aware of herself. I know Haymitch takes advantage of that, and I guess I do, too. "I'm a big girl…"

I silence her with a kiss. "… woman now," I grin wickedly, and she smiles back.

"Okay… Woman." The word doesn't seem to come naturally from her lips quite yet. "Okay, so I'm a… big woman now, and you don't need to worry about me." She pauses, and wrinkles her nose. "That makes me sound fat, doesn't it?"

I am absolutely not stupid enough to answer that question. Not that her slender body, which has known so much hunger, could ever be called fat anyway.

"It makes you sound like you're my woman," I whisper huskily in her ear, and I'm unable to stop my body from pressing my arousal into her hip. She can't possibly miss it. She reaches between us, stroking my length through my jeans.

"I like the sound of that… Your woman," she whispers back. "Not the girl on fire…"

I shake my head. No, not the girl on fire. Not the Capitol's invention. Not the Mockingjay, the invention of the rebellion. "No. You're Katniss. All woman, all wonderful. You're just… You."

Katniss opens the button of my jeans and her narrow hand ventures inside. I catch my breath. I could come in ten seconds in my jeans if I allowed myself to. I desperately want her to continue, but force myself to remove her hand.

She looks surprised up at me, a bit hurt. "Why don't you…"

I kiss her on the lips. "Why don't we wait until you feel up to it," I say.

"Yes, but… You can still…"

"I want you to… You know, enjoy it, too. Along with me."

"I'd still enjoy it, just watching you, touching you…"

Damn you, Katniss, if you only knew how much you're tempting me. A man can only take so much. At least a man like me, with a warm and soft and inviting Katniss Everdeen in my bed.

"I still think it would be better if we wait a little while. We have all the time in the world, what's a few days?" My cock does not agree with me, it seems pretty persistent in its demands for a release, right **now**, but I force my brain to override the smaller head down there.

"I thought that... You would expect it?"

"You mean that... now that we're officially sleeping together, I'd expect you be at my service?" I ask, perhaps my tone is a bit too sarcastic, but I'm hurt she'd think that of me.

She seems to shrink away from me, even thoughs he doesn't move at all. "I didn't mean that, I mean... Perhaps I did... But not with those words. Isn't it... I mean, isn't it what a man expects from a woman?"

I'm starting to seriously question who her source of information on sex and relationships is, because I'd like to tell that person a few things myself. I lift her chin with one finger, forcing her to look into my eyes. "I don't 'expect' anything from you, Katniss. It's not so different from before, is it?" I start kissing her, nearly every word I say is followed by a light kiss. "We've touched each other... Loved each other... Climaxed, together or separately. No expectations, just because we both want to. Right?"

She nods.

"And it's the same now. Even though there is... penetration involved now," I blush as I say the word, "it doesn't change what's between us. You don't have to feel that you owe me something. I just want to sleep with you whenever you're ready, whenever it feels right. We don't have to... do anything... every night. There's no rush."

She nods, and looks relieved.

Her look confirms it - now is not the time. And in that moment, I promise myself to wait until she takes the initiative, all on her own, freely and without fear of pain or feeling that she has to please me.


	5. On top of the world

Katniss seems surprised that I don't make a move on her the following night, or the night after that, but doesn't talk about it. She goes hunting, which I guess means that she must be more or less pain free, and comes back with a nice selection of squirrels.

I still cannot believe that I have had sex with Katniss Everdeen. It's scary to even think it, I have to stop myself from looking nervously around when I do, which is pretty frequently, checking to see if my mother is here to scold me.

Of course she isn't.

I can't think of the people who are gone.

I can't think of the nightmares.

I have to focus on what's real, what's here and now.

And when I manage to do just that, I don't think I've ever been happier. When Haymitch sees us, he just mutters something about teenagers in love, shaking his head, but I can see that he's smiling when he thinks we don't see him.

Katniss does seem to be getting restless. As if she doesn't understand why I don't make a move on her. But she doesn't know what I promised myself, and I don't tell her. I just want her to come to me, to make the first move, to claim me as hers.

And then, one night, she does.

I'm in bed, reading a book. I went to bed first, and when she joined me ten minutes later, she seemed frustrated to find that I was reading when she came into the bedroom. I don't know if she was expecting me to sit naked on our bed, waiting to ravish her, but I don't. She goes to the bathroom, brushes her teeth – and when she comes back, she's stark naked.

It's impossible not to stare at her. The book falls from my hands.

She looks nervous, but determined. "Looks like I managed to make you forget about the book," she says with a satisfied smile.

She's nearly made me forget my own name.

She sits down in front of me on the bed, crossing her legs, her elbows resting on her knees. My eyes just can't keep from looking down between her legs, her pink sex partly visible as her folds open up. I'm sure she's doing it on purpose. I can barely breathe, and all the blood in my body seems to have gone south.

But still, I don't reach out for her. I leave the initiative to her. She moves towards me, pushing me down on the bed. And soon, one of my favorite sexual fantasies from my early teenage years comes true, and they definitely belong in the real box, both the fantasy and reality, here, now: Katniss, naked, straddling me.

Her pupils are enormous. She licks her lips, as if preparing, then kisses me. There is nothing hesitant about the kiss – it's deep, passionate, mind-blowing, leaving my entire body save my throbbing cock numb. When she breaks it, she looks at me. She's looking pretty pleased with herself, and what I see in her eyes is just pure passion. I'm wondering if Katniss is starting to find that she likes to be in charge in bed, and frankly, I wouldn't mind if that turns out to be the case.

"Do I have to spell it out to you?" she says, and her voice is husky.

"Yes."

It wasn't the answer she had expected, clearly, her eyes narrow, and she looks like she's getting annoyed.

"I want you."

"You want me to…"

"I want you to…" She's blushing now. She's searching for the right word. "… fuck me."

To hear Katniss use a word like that is, well, another sexual fantasy come true, this one being more recent. I force myself to stay calm. I just lift an eyebrow, saying casually: "You do?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

She smiles a devilish smile, and kisses me again, just as passionately, then removes my boxer shorts. She straddles me again, her hips are rotating above mine, my cock is nestled between her thighs. She's wet already, and the obvious invitation is hard to resist, but I force myself to hold back. I want leave it all up to her this time.

My hand travels down her body, stopping by a breast for a while, I bend up to suck on the other nipple simultaneously, while my hand ventures further, between her legs. I almost forget all my good intentions when I find out just how wet she is, I have to pinch the skin of my thigh with my other hand, hard, the pain just barely making me able to keep focus. My fingers travel in circles, dipping carefully into her, then spreading the moisture over her folds, searching and finding her clit. Her body jerks and she shouts out when I do, she throws her head back and closes her eyes as she moans loudly when I find just the right frequency.

Katniss, wild and passionate and mine.

I have to blink away the tears in my eyes, the beauty of the moment is so overwhelming.

I can tell it won't take long for her to come. She's already writhing, squirming, panting. When I groan "Come for me, Katniss," she does, making the most delightfully arousing sounds I've never heard, and it's all I can do to keep myself from coming with her.

But I hold back. This is about her.

She slumps down on my chest, a mess of dark, curly hair, panting, her body spent. For a long time she just lies there, her breathing gradually getting slower and less erratic. Finally, she lifts her head, looking at me. Her eyes are cloudy, eyelids heavy, skin flushed, her lips swollen and red.

She has never looked sexier or more beautiful than in this very moment.

She parts her lips, as if to speak, but doesn't. I smile at her. "Ready for more?" I whisper, moving my hips ever so slightly, reminding her just where my cock is still situated, and just how rock hard I still am.

She nods breathlessly.

When I don't move any further, she gets confused. She seems to finally find her voice. "What are you waiting for?" she asks.

"You."

"What do you mean?"

"Why don't you… control it this time."

"Control?"

I wonder if her release clouded her brain so much she's still barely being able to understand what I'm saying, or if she truly doesn't know what to do. What I mean.

"I hurt you last time," I explain. "I came… in too fast. Why don't you control how deep and how fast I go this time?"

"How?"

It's starting to dawn on me that she really doesn't know what I'm talking about.

"How about if you… go on top?"

She looks confused. "You mean… Like I'm sitting on you?" She looks questioningly at me.

I'm starting to realize that she's never really talked to anyone about sex. She was barely speaking to her mother, her sister was so young, and she didn't have any friends. I, on the other hand, had a lot of friends, not to mention two older brothers. And even though my brothers wouldn't tell me everything, I overheard quite a lot at night, when they thought I was sleeping. It's certainly coming in helpful now.

"Yes," I breathe, and she looks skeptical, but moves her body hesitantly against mine. Even though she's soaking wet by now, my cock doesn't find its way into her entrance on its own. She keeps missing, my cock just gliding to the side instead of where we both want it to go. She looks at me, frustrated, and I reach down between us, guiding the head of my penis towards her entrance, holding it steady. She's lifted her body up, and as soon as my head glides into her, I remove my hand, lie back. She moans as my head enters her, and her body stiffens.

"Slowly, baby," I groan, and she nods. Her face contorts, I don't know if it's pain, concentration or desire, perhaps all three. She steadies herself with her hands, and as if testing, lowers herself a few centimeters.

I gasp at the feeling, she's so tight and hot, and watching my cock glide into her, watching **her** do it, is without doubt the hottest thing I've ever seen in my life. I'm so close to coming, I have to think about Haymitch's geese to distract myself for a little while until I've regained control. I don't know what she sees on my face, but it must be something, because she stops and asks: "What is it?"

"Geese," I pant, and I don't know how, but I think she understands what I mean. She grins widely, and lowers herself further.

Okay, so geese don't work, the only thing I can do, is look at her and remember that it's too soon, it's about her, it's Katniss here in this bed with me, and we're nowhere near being ready yet.

I'm at about the point where I really hurt her last time, and her body tenses. Once again, her walls clench around me, but this time I'm prepared for it. I keep my body absolutely still, just watching her as she pants, breathing her way through it. Her eyes are tightly shut. I keep her hips steady with my hands, making sure she doesn't move further down until she's ready. Finally, she opens her eyes, as her features relax.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she answers, and her voice is low and husky. She starts lowering herself further, taking me in, slow and steady. She holds my gaze, doesn't break eye contact for even one single second. Finally, I'm all the way inside, deep inside her core. I look up at her, I'm in awe at her beauty as she stares down at me, her dark hair loose around her shoulders. I reach out and touch her breasts, and she moans. "Now what?" she asks me, shyly.

"What do you want to do?"

Her breath catches, and I nod. She smiles, then starts moving, hesitantly at first, clumsy, unsure of the rhythm. Then she picks up the pace, discovering how to move efficiently. Every time she moves up, when I'm slipping out of her, she's tightening around me, squeezing, and the sensation is so intense it's all I can do to keep myself from coming. Only pure stubbornness is keeping me from emptying myself deep inside her at this very moment. Not yet, not yet, not yet, races through my mind. When she comes back down, I lift my hips to meet her, it's like dancing, I am so deep inside her. She has lost all her reserve now, she's laughing down at me, vocalizing just how much she loves this, loves me, and I love her for it. If there was some initial discomfort, it must be gone now, because she doesn't hesitate. I can feel my release getting closer and closer, I know I can't hold it back much more. I move a hand from her breast down to her clit, touching her, and almost as soon as I do, she comes again, there is no doubt, she screams, her head thrown back, and her body shudders violently. As it does, I follow her over the edge, emptying my seed deep inside her.

We hold each other, panting, breathless, sweaty. Together.

No words are necessary. Our hands convey our love, gently stroking now that our need has been replaced by content, my kiss on her forehead conveys my thanks.

Thank you for showing me your passion. Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for being here. Thank you for loving me.


	6. Comparisons

_**This is the last of the chapters taking place just after their first time. **_

"Katniss?" he whispers in my ear. He knows I'm awake, he must've noticed me stirring in his arms as I woke up. When I open my eyes, I meet his blue ones, still groggy from sleep, but smiling.

It's morning, the sun is shining outside.

No nightmares tonight.

It feels wonderful to be rested. My body just feels so… Heavy. Sated. It's as if I'm acutely aware of every single muscle in my body, as well as every sensation. His chest hair against my elbow. His heat of his skin. His…

"Well, good morning to you, too," I murmur, and he laughs. Yup, that hard-on is pretty hard not to notice.

"Did you sleep well?" he asks.

"Yeah." I smile. I know it's a goofy grin, but I can't hold it back. He smiles goofily at me as well, so it's okay. "Last night was… pretty amazing. Again."

"You okay?"

"Yeah." There is no pain this morning, just a very slight soreness which isn't bothering me at all. "I'm seriously starting to understand why people do this all the time," I tell him, and I didn't think his grin could get any wider, but it does.

"I know." He pauses to kiss me, then continues: "I loved that you… made a move."

"I seem to recall that I made plenty of moves?" I say, innocently, and he laughs.

"Yeah, you did, and I loved them all. But I love that you made the first move."

Something in his voice makes me understand. "That's what you were waiting for, wasn't it? I was so frustrated because I didn't know what you wanted, what you expected from me, why you didn't… initiate anything when I was pretty sure you wanted it. You were waiting for me?"

"I just wanted to be absolutely sure that you wanted it for you, not for… any other reason."

I'm still not quite sure where he wants to go with this. "What do you mean?"

"I was just afraid that you'd… somehow feel pressured into sleeping with me before you were ready, before you'd… healed properly. I know I hurt you pretty badly." The guilty look from before is back.

I decide to tease him a little. "I know, it's not my fault you're so big, is it?"

He starts to cough, and goes red. "Uhm… What? I, uh… Thank you, I guess?" It looks like he doesn't know whether to be really embarrassed or really proud of himself.

I roll my eyes. "Kidding."

"Now, that's not a very nice thing to say," he says, half joking, but not smiling anymore.

"What I mean is I don't really have an extensive list of comparisons."

"Oh. What exactly are your… comparisons?"

"You know that I've never… Been with anyone before. I thought that was pretty obvious?" I'm not quite sure what he means, not sure whether or not I should be offended or even hurt.

"Yes, of course. And I wasn't thinking physically, I just…" He pauses, it doesn't seem like he's sure how to continue. "I hope you don't think I'm being nosy, and I really don't mean to offend you, you don't have to answer, but… I've been wondering just who… Your sources of information were. You know, about… sex."

Now I am hurt. "Didn't you find me… good enough?" I have to fight back the tears now.

"No, that's not it at all!" He kisses me, hugs me, then continues: "You're passionate and gorgeous and just… perfect. You have no idea how much you turn me on."

"Actually I do," I say with a sly grin, the proof of it is grinding into my stomach as we speak.

"Uh, yeah, I guess…" he says, with a grin of his own. "But I just… got the feeling that you didn't… Know much about what goes on, you know… When you're… being intimate."

I blush. "No. I mean, I knew the… technicalities. Of what goes where. And contraception, the stuff we learned at school. But other than that…" I pause, not quite sure how much to tell him. "I never had anyone to… talk to. My mother never had, you know, The Talk. When I was starting to be old enough for it, my father died, and then… I had to take care of the whole family. There was never any time or energy to even think about… Being with anyone." I trail off. I think of the hunger. Peeta has never known that kind of hunger, at least not for a prolonged period of time. He doesn't know how it can take away everything from you, how it can narrow your focus until only one thing matters: Food. I shudder, even thinking about it makes it feel like the claw of hunger is still in my empty stomach. "I never had any girlfriends, and Gale, well… We would never discuss stuff like that." Peeta looks a bit relieved now. "We were never… At least not before I left for the first Hunger Games. I didn't understand then that he would perhaps want… more. And then, when I came back… And in District 13…"

I realize I haven't told him everything about it, but I don't want to go into the kissing here, now, in his bed. It doesn't matter, anyway. It wasn't real, not in the way this is. I was hurt and lonely and destroyed, in so many ways. He was comfort. Familiar. No strings attached, no trauma. I don't know what I was to him. The memory of a love passed? Did he realize he'd already lost me? I blush. "So yes, we kissed a few times, but… Nothing more. And we never discussed… Anything more."

"So your… role models, so to speak, were…"

"My parents, who loved each other, but then my father died, and my mother fell apart and couldn't take care of us anymore. So it was a lesson of how dangerous love can be more than anything else. It was desperate girls selling their bodies to the caretaker, using the only thing they had – their bodies – to keep them from starving to death. It was victors being forced to sell their bodies to keep their loved ones alive. Being forced to kiss you on camera to keep first myself alive in the arena, then later Prim." He takes a sharp intake of breath when I say it, but doesn't interrupt. I know it must hurt him, but the truth needs to be said. "It was blatantly obvious public displays of affection in the Capitol, or perhaps I should say displays of extravagance and lust and power. It was as empty and meaningless as their eating frenzies and brain dead talkshows. It was District 13 and how it somehow turned sex into something functional, necessary for producing the children they needed so dearly, I wouldn't be surprised if they fitted reproduction into the daily time schedule. I was half expecting to get '1730-1800 Sex with Gale' stamped onto my arm one day."

He nods. "I was starting to feel like you were… feeling obliged, in a way. To please me. That I was… more important than your pleasure?" I can tell it must be difficult for him to say it. I'm a bit embarrassed to tell him that he's not far from the truth.

"Not more important, perhaps, but more… Central. To the whole thing. I thought that you would expect… More."

He holds his hands around my face, holding it steady, forcing me to meet his eyes. I haven't been able to look him in the eye for quite some time. "Katniss, I don't expect anything from you that you don't want to give. I asked you because… I had suspected pretty much what you just told me. That you didn't really… Have any good role models. Or anyone to ask."

"You didn't really have any good role models, either," I say, remembering the relationship between his parents.

He grows serious. "That's true. But remember that I was in love with you since I was five." He kisses my nose, and I smile. "And perhaps I… saw everything around me through a pair of pink glasses. Plus, if I dare say so, we have a pretty different, well… general view of life."

Now that's the understatement of the year. I can't help but laugh. "Peeta Mellark, are you saying that I'm a pessimist?"

"You said that, not me," he laughs, but I know he's right. Peeta is the romantic, the one who has a faith in mankind that just can't be broken, not even under torture. But me, well… My main focus is survival, and I find it very hard to trust anyone. How the two of us ended up together is a mystery.

He must be thinking along the same lines, because he says: "I guess we're not really a match made in heaven, are we?" I can tell he's teasing me, he has a devilish grin, and he's still pressing that persistent erection into my stomach.

"Oh, who says we aren't? Agreeing all the time must be so boring," I tease him back. "Besides, I can keep your annoying romanticism at bay with a good dose of realism. And squirrels."

He rolls us over, I'm lying underneath him, he's pinning my arms, I can't move at all underneath his heavy body. I'm trapped, and I'm loving it. "Oh yeah?" He kisses my neck, hungrily, and it seems like there's a direct nerve connection going between the skin of my neck and my sex. When he stops kissing my neck, he looks serious. "I just don't want you to compare us to anyone else. We're not like them – we are not our parents. We're not like the people in the Capitol, or in District 13. We're not starving. Even if we have mostly seen dysfunctional relationships around us, it doesn't mean that we have to be. No one is forcing us to do anything, and I would never force **you** to do anything, or expect you to… be at my service. Your pleasure is as important as mine, and I'll be grateful forever that you chose to trust me with your passion."

I spread my legs, crossing my legs over his back, inviting him. "I'm grateful for your passion, too. Although they do say that men are, well, easier to please." I can't help but giggle.

He grunts. "We're just easier, period," he says. "Less complicated. We don't have layers upon layers of thinking and analyzing and discussing and wondering."

"I thought you just told me to chuck all my preconceptions?" I laugh. "Here you go reintroducing them." I've started grinding my hips towards his, because I know it distracts him like nothing else.

He does start to look like talking is soon going to be the last thing on his mind. "I just want you to know that we're in this together, and we don't have to compare our relationship to anyone else. We'll figure it out together. But you have to trust me, and you have to talk to me. Okay?"

As he says "okay", he thrusts into me. It comes as a surprise, so sudden. I arch my back, welcoming him. I must've been wetter than I'd thought, considering the lack of foreplay, because he slides in easily, no discomfort, just a feeling of being complete. We soon find a rhythm together, hard and fast this time, not slow and somewhat tentative like before. I'm surprised by how quickly this almost desperate passion is driving me towards the edge.

With newfound courage I decide to try something new – I stop his thrusting for just a few seconds, at first he looks like he wonders if something is wrong, but when I make him move his hands away to allow my legs to pass, and lie them on either side of his neck. Then I nod to signal that it's okay to thrust again, and when he does, realizing just how deep he goes from this new angle, an almost animal sound is ripped from his throat. I myself cannot believe how deep he goes, it would've been almost scary if it hadn't felt so wonderful, and his sounds drive me on along with the steadily increasing rhythm he's creating. I can't really do anything but lie still, accepting his thrusts, I can't move, my moans turning into screams as I approach, faster and harder, and as his thrusting becomes almost erratic and desperate, I come, and he follows me just a few seconds later.

Out of breath, we can't lie in that position long, I can't support his body weight, now heavy and exhausted, with my legs on his shoulders. He slides out of me almost regrettingly, and slumps down on the bed next to me.

"That's something my… brothers never… told me about," he says when he can finally regain his voice, still panting.

"You mean the leg thing?"

"Yeah. Who told you?"

I shake my head. "No one."

"I guess you're just a natural, Katniss." He whispers in my ear, kissing it lightly.

"You too," I whisper back.

**This is the last of the fluffy chapters - at least for a while. The next few chapters that I'm working on are so full of angst they are actually painful to write, so... Turn back now if you can't handle it.**

**I'd also really like to thank you all for your reviews of my two HG stories, they mean so much to me! Keep them coming! Thank you also to everyone who's favorited and followed both Broken and this sequel, I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I'm enjoying writing. :)**


	7. The storm is coming

**_As I said, I'm not writing this sequel in the correct order. I'll be going back and forth, depending on where my inspiration takes me, writing about the storylines or scenes that inspire me. This next scene/storyline, which will span over several chapters, is one I should I ideally wait with until later. It takes place several years after the previous chapters. Quite a few things that I intend to write about later, such as Peeta's proposal (assuming he's the one who proposes LOL it might even be Katniss, who knows?), their wedding/toasting etc should have been written first. But this storyline just won't leave me alone, I have to pursue it before I'm free to write about other and hopefully happier days in their lives. At this point, they are married, and have been for some time, but they don't have any children. They are about 26 years old._**

**_This is where the story turns dark. I categorized this story as romance/angst - well, here's where you'll be getting your angst fix (if you need it). It's been pretty fluffy so far, but the fun is over._**

**_You have been warned. And Katniss and Peeta, I apologize in advance for what I'm going to do to you. _**

**_Written in Katniss' POV._**

* * *

In every marriage there are good days, and there are bad days. Most days are good or average. Some are bad.

And a few are very, very bad.

In retrospect, I guess I should've expected something to happen. I should've known Snow wouldn't let us get away that easily.

* * *

I have a headache. There's a thunderstorm coming, I can feel it in every cell of my body. The air feels heavy, almost sticky, I can hardly breathe. It's as if all of nature is just waiting for the storm, for the release. I've been hunting, but I haven't seen even one single squirrel. I come home empty-handed, thirsty and annoyed. I look up at the clouds, see the dark thunder clouds forming, just hoping nature will just get over with it, so I can breathe again afterwards.

Peeta's not home when I open the door. I find that odd, his days at the bakery start very early, but he's usually home earlier than me. I usually come home to dinner on the table and lots of stories from the bakery.

I feel lonely here without him. I've been restless all day, it must've been the weather. I don't know why, but I really need him to be here with me. In the eerie silence, I find some of yesterday's bread and make myself a sandwich. I drink three glasses of water, but still I feel thirsty. My clothes are sticking to my body, everything feels damp.

Then I hear his footsteps in the hallway. "Peeta?" I say happily, and I hear his steps approaching. I smile in anticipation, I've been wanting to talk to him all day.

My smile dies the second he enters the room. There's something about the way he moves. Like a predator. His eyes are cold, distant.

He usually brings back some of the day's goods – unsold cookies, slightly burned bread, stuff they can't sell, but which is still perfectly edible. Old habits die hard, I guess, this is the kind of food Peeta grew up on. But today, his hands are empty.

My throat feels dry and thick. My whole body screams at me that something is wrong, but I can't place my finger on just what it is. I just study him in silence.

"Hi, Peeta, how was your day?" At this point I usually go over to him and give him a kiss on the cheek, but today, something holds me back. I study him closely, my brain trying to process what's going on.

He smiles at me, but somehow the smile leaves me feeling cold. "Hi, Katniss," he says, but he doesn't answer my question, or ask anything back. When he smiles, he reveals just a little bit too much of his teeth. It's like he's sneering at me.

Outside the window, I can see the thunder storms forming. The storm will be over us any minute. I've been waiting for it all day, but now that it's nearly here, all it does is fill me with dread.

He's walking towards me, and all I want is to shrink away from him, make sure there is some distance between us. I want to say something, but my tongue is so dry it sticks to the roof of my mouth.

"Katniss," he whispers, and that's when I recognize the voice.

The way he says my name, it sounds like… the mutts in the sewers underneath the Capitol. When they were out to kill me. My eyes widen in fear, and he – it – must've seen, must've understood, that I know. His hands reach out, fast as a snake, and he captures my wrists. I was trying to move towards the kitchen knives, but he predicts my every move.

"Katnissssssss," he says, he cocks his head. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing, I…."

The thunderstorm is upon us. The electricity goes out, the kitchen is dark. I can see the light from the first lightning, illuminating everything in the kitchen for a split second. The lightning strikes, not very far from us, and is followed almost instantly by the thunder, higher than I've ever heard it before. We're at the heart of the storm.

He has both my hands captured, and leans down to kiss me. It's not like his usual kisses – neither kind and loving nor passionate. This kiss is brutal, demanding, I'm barely able to breathe, my lips taste of blood when he finally tears away from my mouth.

Tears are streaming down my cheeks. "What are you doing, Peeta?" I say, and my voice is shaking. "What are you… What have they done to you?"

Because I know, deep down, that this isn't really him. They've done something to him. He looks like he did back in District 13, when he was at his worst. Only then he was under control, drugs and guards kept him and others safe.

Now there is no one here but me and him and the thunderstorm. What triggered him? I wonder, but I know better than to ask him. I've helped him through so many nightmares and flashbacks, I know which buttons to push. But this… This is something I've never seen before. "It's not real," I tell him, refusing to break eye contact. It's like staring in to the eyes of a wolf, ready for the kill.

I've never been more scared in my life.

"It's not real, Peeta. Whatever they told you… Whatever your brain is telling you… It's not real. It's not real!" I'm almost screaming it the last time, willing him to understand.

He just snarls. "They told me you'd say that," he answers. He rips my shirt off. "And they told me not to listen to you. Because you're a liar." He looks down at my breasts, heaving. "Take off your bra," he commands me. "I'm going to release your hands, and if you try to escape or fight me, I'll kill you."

I want to refuse, but I can't, my hands move on their own accord, almost helplessly, opening the clatch on my back, the bra falling to my floor. He looks at my bare breasts now, he's seen them a thousand times before, but never like this. His hands are back on my wrists now, then he descends on one of my breasts, biting, hard. I scream out in pain, but my scream is drowned in another crash of thunder. When he looks up, there is blood around his mouth. When he smiles, his teeth are red.

Hijacked. He's been hijacked again.

And I know, see it in his cold, wolf-like eyes, that he's telling the truth.

He will kill me.

"Take off your jeans," he orders me, and with shaking hands, I obey. As I do, he continues talking. "It's time. And he told me to tell you something."

"Who? What?" I ask, as only the occasional lightening lights up the kitchen. His eyes are nearly fluorescent in the dark.

"He told me to convey his greetings. It's been a long time. He hopes you'll enjoy this as much as he will."

Snow. It's Snow. Panic rushes through me, I scream, but there's no one to hear me. Only this… Monster standing in front of me. We're in the middle of the storm now, I've never seen a thunderstorm worse than this one in my life. He drags me down on the floor, forcing my head back with a hand in my hair, yanking. As he opens the zipper of his jeans, I think my heart stops, I want it to stop, but it doesn't. I've seen him do this so many times, but this time I find myself begging: "Please, Peeta… It's not real… Please, don't hurt me!"

But he just smiles that predator smile again. "Look at me," he orders, and I force myself to meet his wolfish eyes. With one forceful stroke, he enters me, and it's so painful I scream.

He's laughing.

Then his hands descend on my neck, closing around my throat. I fight him like a wild animal now, fighting for breath, I pound on him, try to scratch at his eyes, but he's too strong. Red clouds drift before my eyes, then it all goes black. The last thing I see, is his eyes, fluorescent.

* * *

When I come to, I'm lying on the floor of our kitchen. The thunderstorm has passed. It's raining hard outside the window. The backdoor is wide open, but no one is here but me. My whole body hurts, my head is spinning. I'm naked and bloody.

I throw up as I remember what happened.

I have to get out. He might come back.

I try to get up, but my legs won't carry me at first. I crawl on all fours until I'm able to get up with the help of the wall, then stumble outside, into the rain.

Haymitch. I have to get to Haymitch.

I pound on his door, scream his name. What if he's passed out, I distantly think, but then I see his face in the window, see how he runs, he opens the door, catches me as I fall. "God, Katniss, what happened?" he says, and all I can do is repeat:

"Peeta… It's Peeta… He's…"

Then everything is black again.

* * *

_**This chapter was really hard to write. I didn't want to write it, but then again I had to. Please review! **_


	8. White

I open my left eye. The light is so bright it hurts. I try to open my right eye as well, but I'm not able to. I blink several times. Slowly, the world comes into focus.

Everything is white. Clean. Shiny. Quiet.

It smells strange.

Haymitch sits on a chair next to my bed. He's sleeping. He's snoring quietly, the only sound I can hear besides the persistent beeping of some medical equipment to the right of me, but I can't see it because of my eye.

My throat is so dry. I try to ask for some water, but all that comes out is something unintelligible. It's enough to wake Haymitch, though. He jumps up from his chair, and looks startled. Close to tears.

"Katniss, you're… awake," he says. I've never seen him looked worse, and that says something. He's unshaved, dirty, his hair tousled. I try to motion for some water, and he seems to understand what I mean. "I'm not sure if I should give you anything," he says hesitatingly, "the doctors…"

"Please," I croak, and he looks around quickly, pours me a cup of water, and helps me drink. I nearly choke on it, and the pain when the water goes through my throat is excruciating.

A nurse quickly comes to my aid, scolding Haymitch for giving me water, and makes a call. Soon, there are two doctors and two nurses by my bed, along with Haymitch.

"How long was I… asleep?" I ask.

"You were unconscious for four days," one of the doctors, a young woman, answers me. She performss a quick examination - asks me some questions, shines a light into my only open eye, listens to my chest. I don't know if I pass the test or not.

"Where's Peeta?" There is no way I can avoid asking the question.

A tear is rolling slowly down Haymitch's cheek. I don't think I've ever seen him cry. "He's… safe."

"What do you mean?"

"He's hospitalized. Not here," he quickly reassures me, "in another ward."

"He's in the psychiatry ward, the older, male doctor explains to me. "He's under surveillance around the clock. There was some confusion as to where to keep him, here in the hospital or… in jail."

I take a deep, shaky breath.

The door opens, and Dr Aurelius comes into the room. He looks disheveled too, like Haymitch, as if he hasn't gotten a lot of sleep lately. "So good to see you awake, Katniss," he says, sitting down on my bedside. I have never really had a very close relationship to Dr Aurelius, I've never accepted his help unless I was forced to – but then again, he did save me from a death sentence once. And he knows more about what Peeta and I went through than anyone but Haymitch.

Peeta.

That's why he's here.

"Do you remember what happened?" Dr Aurelius asks carefully.

I close my eye. The image of Peeta descending on me is burned into the inside of my eyelids. "Yes," I whisper. "Up until I… passed out. He was choking me."

Dr Aurelius nods. "Yes, we've seen the… bruises. And the bite marks." I shiver. Bite marks, that sounds so… savage. "Can you please tell me what you remember?"

I tell them, haltingly, my throat raw and sore, but I'm not crying. It's as if I'm watching myself from the outside, my voice is almost… detached. My voice trails off as I tell them of the last thing I remember – Peeta's burning eyes as I pass out, thinking I'll die.

"It's what I expected," Dr Aurelius says, and I can't understand why he'd say that. Why would he expect anything? I want to ask questions, but I'm so tired. The nurse is injecting something into my arm, and I fall asleep again.

* * *

The next time I wake up, my right eye also opens, if not fully.

It's evening. I don't know if it's the same day or another. Haymitch is still sitting by the side of my bed. He's reading a book on raising geese, but I don't know if he's actually reading – he's holding the book upside down, so I guess not. He puts it down when I sees that I'm awake again.

He reaches out to take my hand, and flinches when I quickly, instinctively pull it back.

"Sorry," he says.

"What happened?" I whisper.

He looks worriedly at me. "I'm not sure I… You're not strong enough yet. Dr Aurelius says to wait."

I want to ask what's so terrible that they can't tell me, what can possibly be more terrible than what I already remember, but I'm falling into darkness again.

* * *

After a few days, they allow me out of bed. I take a few, careful steps, supported by Haymitch on one side, and my mother on the other. My mother came from District four to be here. It tells me that this is pretty bad.

That evening, Dr Aurelius comes to see me. Haymitch is there, as always. He's barely left my side.

Dr Aurelius asks me a few questions, and seems content that I can tell him basic information such as the day of the week and my birthday. "You took quite a few hits to the head," he says simply. He hesitates. "Do you feel strong enough to… hear what we've found out about Peeta?"

I don't know whether to shake my head or nod. Finally, I whisper: "Yes." I want to hear it, and I don't want to hear it.

"As you know, he's in the psych ward. He's been put on suicide watch. Someone is checking up on him every ten minutes."

"Is he psychotic?" I ask, remembering what he was like back in District 13. A danger to himself and others. Remembering what he was like during the thunderstorm.

A danger to me.

Dr Aurelius shakes his head slowly. "No, he's not. He's perfectly lucid. He remembers everything." Dr Aurelius looks down at his hands. He's holding some papers, but doesn't show them to me. "I just talked to him, actually. He told me to tell you that… he's sorry."

I can't keep the tears back. "He's sorry?" I cry. "He's **sorry**? He…" I can't say it.

"He raped you." Dr Aurelius finishes my sentence. "Then he tried to kill you. It's completely out of character for him, of course. And everything both you and he have told me about what happened, supports the same conclusion - that he's been hijacked."

"Yes, but it doesn't… it doesn't fit. If he was hijacked, why is he… lucid now? Why does he remember everything? Why isn't he psychotic and mad? And who hijacked him, now, I mean, he's been in District 12 the whole time?"

"As you know, Peeta has undergone extensive therapy since he came back from his captivity in the Capitol," Dr Aurelius explains. "It seemed very successful. He improved tremendously, going from being a psychiatric patient who we at times thought would never live outside a psychiatric hospital, to functioning normally, both in his professional life and in his marriage to you. But what we didn't know, was that Snow had planted something in his mind as part of the hijacking. The call it a ticker. It's basically a ticking time bomb, just waiting to go off into someone's head. It's hidden, not noticeable for anyone, including the person in question itself, until it's triggered and is activated. This usually occurs at a set time or as a response to a certain stimulus. Peeta was programmed to find you and molest you. He wasn't programmed to kill. If he had been, you would've been dead now. He was programmed to hurt you badly, but just not badly enough to kill you. You were supposed to survive, to be broken. And Peeta was supposed to remember it all, to know that he had destroyed you." Of course. It's what Snow would do. He always knew how to strike where it would hurt the most.

"Snow wanted him to remember everything he'd done," Dr Aurelius continues. "He wanted him to fully understand what it meant. It wouldn't be a proper punishment to you if he'd been psychotic afterwards. Or a proper punishment to him." I feel the taste of vomit in the back of my mouth. Snow. Even from the grave he manages to come back and haunt us.

"Ever the manipulator," I whisper. "But… Why now? We've been together for years, what… What brought it on? Was it the thunder?"

Haymitch shakes his head. "No. We didn't understand it at first, but... Did you know which day it was? The day he assaulted you." I shake my head. "It was exactly ten years after the final day of your first Hunger Games." He pauses, allows it to sink in. Ten years after the berries. Ten years after Peeta and I, but most of all me, made the Capitol and Snow look like fools. We manipulated the rules of the Games, and I should've known it was something Snow would never forget or forgive. "The police found some… writing on the wall of the kitchen. It was written in blood. It said "Happy anniversary"."

So that was it. Snow thought of everything. When Peeta was freed from the Capitol, they'd said that it had been a bit too easy. We had thought it was because they wanted to break me by allowing me to see his state, and perhaps it had been – but he'd made sure this ticker was planted in Peeta's head. Just in case something went wrong, and we both survived the war.

It was Snow's final revenge.

Dr Aurelius is looking down at the papers he held in his hand again. I know somehow that they aren't regular medical papers I wouldn't understand. "What's that?" I nod towards his hands.

He hesitates, then hands them to me. "Peeta asked me to give them to you," he says carefully. "They are divorce papers."

At the bottom of the last page is Peeta's signature.

* * *

_** I'm going on holiday soon, so I don't know when I'll have time to update again... Sorry to leave you hanging. ;) I might post one more chapter before I go, I don't know yet. Thank you for your reviews and follows! **_


	9. Choosing

_**I'm going on vacation in a few days, but you'll get one last chapter first. I won't have time to write anything while I'm on holiday (no chance to relax when you have two boys aged 2 and 4, believe me!), so I probably won't update for a few weeks. In the meantime, please review, and you can always drop me a PM if there's a storyline you'd like me to explore. :)**_

* * *

More days pass.

I feel numb.

My body heals. My bruises fade. My body hurts less, slowly, day by day. I think they keep me longer in the hospital than strictly necessary. Dr Aurelius wants me to talk to him, but I don't answer him. Most of the time I just look right through him. At one point he probably gets tired of being ignored, and says sternly: "You'd perhaps feel better if you'd just open up to me, Katniss."

"Why don't you go talk to Peeta instead," I spit back at him, "He's the crazy one, remember?"

I returned the divorce papers – without a signature.

Do I sign? Should I sign? I don't know. My whole world has been turned upside down. All the things I thought I knew – I didn't. Snow made my husband rape me. And I know I shouldn't resent Peeta for it, because it wasn't his fault, he was hijacked and programmed, but I can't stop myself from being angry with Peeta, with my **husband**. Because it was his face, his hands, his body.

I can't think. Just thinking about it makes me sick.

My mother is here every day. She doesn't talk about what happened, or the future. It's a relief somehow. She should annoy me, I guess, but at least it's better than Dr Aurelius and his constant nagging about how I should open up.

And then there's Haymitch. He's here almost all the time. He's not drinking as much as usual, the nurses don't like him drinking, so he has to smuggle alcohol into the hospital. I know he visits Peeta, too. He doesn't talk much. He's just always here, looking at me. I think he blames himself for not hearing my screams that night. But how could he, through the thunder? And the fog of booze?

I wonder if Snow could control the weather, too. From his grave.

I shudder.

* * *

When it's time to go home, Haymitch insists that I move into his house. I protest, I want to go home. I know Peeta's not there. He's still in the psych ward. There's no word on when he's being released. When I ask, they won't tell me.

"There's no way you're going back into… that house," Haymitch says, and that's the end of the discussion. I don't have the strength to fight him. It turns out he's already discussed this plan with my mother, who's even cleaned his house. In fact, it seems like she's been living there for quite some time already. Two guest bedrooms are ready for me and my mother. I secretly wish that my mother would go back to district four, but it would seem I'm out of luck. Again.

I try to go hunting, but I end up running back to the village. Being alone terrifies me. I see… faces. Everywhere. I can hear the leaves whispering my name: "Katnisssssss… Katnisssssss…"

I miss Peeta. I'm furious at Peeta. I'm scared of Peeta.

One night, over dinner, I finally ask: "What's going to happen to Peeta?"

Haymitch is drunk. He's drinking a lot more now that I'm no longer in the hospital. My mother looks down at the food on her plate, refusing to meet my eyes. "We don't know."

"You don't know? But surely you must know what the… alternatives are?"

Haymitch tries to pour himself another glass of liquor, but I take the bottle, put it down on the table just in front of me, out of his reach, holding it hostage. I look him stubbornly in the eye. Haymitch grimaces. "Well, there's been quite a debate over at the psych department about what to do with him. Whether he should be prosecuted for assault, rape and attempted murder. Whether he should be locked in in a room in psych for life, because they can't know if there are any other tickers just waiting to go off in his head, and what he might be programmed to do. Or if he should be treated as a regular mentally ill patient and be released when he's well enough. The argument is that because he was hijacked, he was criminally insane at the time when he… did what he did, and as such he can't be prosecuted, but that he doesn't pose a danger to anyone anymore."

I don't know which alternative scares me more. "What do you think?" I ask him.

"I try not to think," he answers. "That's what this baby is for." He takes the bottle back from me, and pours himself another drink. I don't try to stop him.

"And what does Dr Aurelius think?"

"Dr Aurelius is the only reason they haven't thrown him in jail or thrown away the key to the nuthouse already."

I guess I shouldn't be surprised. If it hadn't been for his testimony in my defense, I probably would've been executed. He testified that I was traumatized and in one word: Insane. I got off. Now he's doing the same thing for Peeta. I don't know how to feel about that. It would seem that he's devoted to keeping victors alive and out of jail, although I don't understand why.

"I want to see him."

"No way."

"I want to see him!"

"He won't let you."

"Has he said that?"

"Yes."

"It's not his decision to make."

* * *

Many years ago, I was the girl on fire. I still know how to get what I want.

* * *

They've tried to make the psych ward more homely than the somatic part of the hospital. Pictures, more colors, even curtains and different furniture. But as I enter the hallway of the secure section, that changes. It's sterile, cold. There's nothing that can be removed from the walls, to be turned into a weapon. Everything is nailed down. The windows can't be opened. The doors are locked, there are guards.

They know who I am, of course. They stare at me.

I take a deep breath as I knock on the door. Haymitch is ever at my side.

Dr Aurelius is in there with Peeta. The guard unlocks the door. All the doors in the secure ward are locked around the clock. Peeta is sitting on the bed, looking out the window, his back turned towards me.

"Welcome, Katniss," Dr Aurelius says. I acknowledge that I heard what he said by a look, but don't answer. I feel done talking to him.

When I look down at my hands, I'm surprised to see that they are shaking. I'm still standing behind Peeta. "Hey Peeta," I say.

He doesn't react.

The silence in the room is heavy. I lick my lips. They are so dry. I feel dizzy. "Could you please look at me?" I whisper.

He shakes his head, slowly.

"Why didn't you sign the divorce papers?" he says, finally. His voice is dull. Devoid of emotion.

I don't answer his question, probably because I don't even know the answer to it myself. Instead I ask him a question back: "Why won't you look at me?"

Still no answer.

"Look at me!" I scream at him, at the top of my lungs. I find it hard to believe the voice is mine, it sounds like a mad person.

Finally, he does. Slowly.

I've never seen him look worse, not even when he was dying of infection in the arena, or when he had just been rescued from the Capitol after having been tortured. He's lost a lot of weight. He hasn't shaved. There are dark rings under his eyes, his hair is unkempt, and his skinn is pale and almost see-through. And his eyes… They are dull. I realize he must be on some kind of mood-altering drugs. The sparkle is gone.

Is Peeta gone?

He flinches when he sees me. Yet is face is devoid of emotion.

Tears are streaming down my cheeks now. My rage is a volcano, erupting. Before anyone has time to react and stop me, I've thrown myself on him, attacked him, my nails clawing at him, my fists hammering down on his body. He doesn't defend himself. And I'm screaming: "I won't let him take you away from me! I won't! I won't!"

The guards forcibly remove me, save Peeta from me. They want to take me out of the room, but Haymitch, thankfully, stops them. Blood is slowly running down from one of the scratches I made on Peeta's left cheek. I'm not screaming anymore, but I need him to understand. I say, slowly: "I won't let Snow take you from me. I can't let him take away the most important person in my life, the one person who holds it all together. I won't let him break me. And you can't let him break you."

As I speak the words, I realize they are the truth. I hadn't known until this moment how I'd feel, what I'd say. What he did should by all accounts be unforgiveable, and I would tell any other woman to leave, and never look back. Yet I'm unable to let go. He didn't do it out of hatred, anger, intoxication with drugs or alcohol.

He's as much a victim in this as I am.

I won't let that bastard Snow win.

"Can you please leave now?" Peeta says. Still no emotion. He's looking out of the window again.

I do.

* * *

We walk home to Haymitch's house in silence. We're nearly home before he finally speaks.

"Why?"

"Because it wasn't really him. It was… Someone else."

"How can you forgive him just like that?"

"I haven't. I'll never forgive. But Peeta isn't the one who should be forgiven."

Haymitch just shakes his head slowly.

"You never cease to surprise me, Katniss." He sighs heavily. "I don't know who to protect. I am – was – your mentor. I'm supposed to look out for you. I've failed you before, and I failed you again on… that night. And now I feel that whatever I do, I fail one of you. I was going to let him rot in jail, or the nuthouse, and concentrate on getting you back on your feet. I'd save you. I'd choose you."

I stop on the porch. Haymitch stops as well. Our eyes meet. "To save me, you also have to save Peeta. We're a team. I can't abandon him ever again."

"I don't think he wants to be saved, Katniss."

"I know," I whisper.


	10. As the days pass

_**I'm back! Being on vacation is great, but coming home is even better. :) I'm also working on another fic, which I'll post as soon as it's finished. It's kind of taken my focus away from this fic for a little while, as it was a story that just had to be told. Well, it's not as if the story is new, it's another Katniss/Peeta first time fic, but this time it's canon. I'm not abandoning this fic, though! Thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed, favorited and followed my story, I really appreciate it! 3**_

My mother goes back to District Four. It's a relief, even though having her around was less terrible than I thought it would be. Although we have come a long way towards having a civil relationship now compared to the situation before and right after the Hunger Games, we definitely don't have a closer mother-daughter relationship.

It would seem that Haymitch is taking over her job as a parent. Or I guess he did years ago. Drunken and dysfunctional as he is.

It feels like I'm being left out. Haymitch won't answer most of my questions about Peeta, and after a while, I stop asking. I'm not allowed to see him. They won't answer my questions when I ask why. Haymitch and I have dinner together almost every day. I spend most of the day at his house, and he's more often than not at the psychiatry ward, where they still have Peeta. That much I know. It's weird having dinner with Haymitch every night, alone. It feels like we're an old, married couple. He even tries pretty hard not to drink too much. He is by no means sober, but he's not passing-out-drunk, either. I don't tell him, but I do appreciate his efforts.

Three months after I came home from the hospital, I go hunting for the first time. Successfully. It's October, and the days are growing shorter. I come home with a single squirrel – which would've been an abysmal day back before the first Hunger Games. I even shot it through the stomach, so the meat is pretty much ruined. Still, it feels like a victory, and Haymitch is close to tears when he sees it.

I find that as the days pass, I'm able to enjoy being back in the woods again, alone. The voices saying my name have faded. My body is strong and healthy, my bow means death to quite a few turkeys and squirrels and even the odd deer. I can wander the woods, almost without making a sound, as if I don't exist. I blend in with the autumnal colors with my brown hunter's jacket and black jeans. Hunting helps me concentrate. I can lose myself, without worrying about whether I'll get lost, or what will happen in the future. Coming home with dinner is intensely satisfying.

I find that sometimes, I can even smile or laugh again. Johanna comes to visit, and we get drunk together. Three victors, all intoxicated around one table, playing poker. Not strip poker, even though Johanna wanted to. Well, she's playing strip poker, and losing at it, too, but Haymitch and I keep our clothes on, keeping our stakes to matches. I don't think I've laughed so hard in years. When I go to bed that night, the muscles of face actually ache because I've been laughing so much.

Johanna doesn't talk about Peeta, or (for once) sex, and I know that's not a coincidence. She must've talked to Haymitch. Her brief visit really lightens up fall.

Winter is coming.

I've stopped asking about Peeta. I don't go to the psych ward begging to be let in anymore. I know they won't let me, anyway. I know he won't see me.

One night, Haymitch comes home from the hospital particularly late. I'm almost starting to worry when I finally hear his heavy steps in the hallway. I know he'll be dragging in snow all over the hallway. It's the first snowfall of the winter. I try not to think about another first snowfall, years ago.

It hurts too much.

I know something is up. Haymitch doesn't talk at all during the meal. As I start doing the dishes, he says: "I talked to Dr Aurelius today."

So Dr Aurelius is still in District 12. That's pretty impressive for a Capitol doctor, showing such a level of commitment to your patient. Perhaps Dr Aurelius is as crazy as his patients are. "Oh." I try not to sound too interested.

"He wants to set up a meeting."

I drop a spoon on the floor. "Is Peeta going to be there?"

"Yes," Haymitch answers, observing my face for any kind of emotion. "Peeta, you, me, Dr Aurelius and the rest of the team. They… are thinking about discharging him."

I think about the divorce papers I returned without a signature. Four times.

"Why do you need me there? You haven't allowed me to play a part in his recovery at all. Because I guess he has recovered, hasn't he? I mean, if they are planning on discharging him?"

"Well, I wouldn't say recovered…" Haymitch hesitates. "I guess it's more appropriate to say that… there's not much more they can do for him. And he's not a danger to anyone. Or suicidal. Not anymore, anyway."

"And you need me to… what exactly?"

"To tell us what you want."

What do I want?


	11. The meeting

**_I think it's about time to credit J. Michael Straczynski for giving me the idea of the ticker. He did something similar in his wonderful series Babylon 5 (for those of you who remember 90s sci-fi), and Peeta's ticker was inspired by B5. In the B5 counterpart to the ticker, telepaths were involved, they weren't called tickers and they didn't work quite the same way, but the basic idea is the same – that there is something waiting in your brain, put in by someone else without your consent or even knowledge, hidden - until it's suddenly activated, and then there is no turning back._**

_**And as always, thank you so much for your reviews, likes and favorites! There are a couple of more chapters in this particular storyline coming up, then I think I'll start writing on some of the other scenes in the lives of Katniss and Peeta, pre-epilogue. Hopefully they'll be somewhat happier. :)**_

* * *

Peeta is the last to enter the room. I'm sitting by the table, along with Haymitch, Dr Aurelius, another psychiatrist from the District 12 hospital, a Dr Pachatcka, and a psychiatric nurse, who only introduced herself as Rose.

I have a kind of strained relationship to people with flower names.

Rose tries with some small talk at first, but quickly discovers that I'm totally disinterested in it, and wisely shuts up. The silence in the room is heavy. Dr Aurelius is studying me closely, which makes me feel like a child. I haven't turned up to even one single of the twice-weekly appointments he's made with me. In fact, he hasn't seen me at all since I left the hospital. He clears his throat. "You look good, Katniss."

I guess I'm required to answer out of respect to politeness. "Whatever." After all, I wouldn't want to be rude, what would Effie say?

Finally, the door opens. Peeta comes in, alone. No guards this time. He looks pale and thin, he's lost a lot of muscle mass. He looks almost like a lost, little boy. So unlike the man I used to know. He takes a sharp intake of breath when he sees me, but doesn't meet my eyes. He sits down on the only available chair, as far away from where I'm sitting as possible. This has clearly been planned from the outset.

"Welcome, Peeta," Dr Aurelius says. "As you can see, Katniss is with us here today." I know Peeta must've known in advance that I was coming, but I don't know why Dr Aurelius is trying to make it sound like it's something of a coincidence.

"Katniss, we have started preparing for Peeta's discharge from the hospital," Dr Pachatcka says. He's old, older than Haymitch. But he looks kind. I think I like him better than Dr Aurelius. "He has made great progress during his time here. We have to find out what the next step in his recovery is going to be, and you are a crucial part in that."

"I told you I want to go to another district," Peeta interrupts. "I don't want to live in District 12." His voice is flat.

I decide to say as little as possible until I find out what's going on here, to gather as much information about the situation as I can before I take an active part in the discussion. I know what I want, but I don't know how to get what I want.

"We can find a place for you to live in another district, Peeta," Dr Aurelius says. "But we feel you'd be more likely to make a full recovery if you are here, in a familiar environment."

"I'm not doing that to Katniss."

There, now I have to get involved. Peeta looks at me now, his eyes are dark. He's trying to hide his feelings. I know him so well I instantly know when he does that.

"What makes you think you know what I want?" I say slowly.

"Well, you know what I want, anyway," he answers. "You must know, I mean, you've returned my divorce papers four times."

I ignore him. "What's the deal with the… ticker? Is it gone?" I direct my question to the doctors.

Dr Aurelius nods. "Yes. Once it's been activated, it will do what it's been programmed to do. If it's been programmed to incur a permanent change, then the effect is irreversible. But in most cases, like this one, the effect is temporary, and once the program has been completed, it is… deleted, so to speak."

"Are there any other tickers just waiting to go off in his brain?"

"Well, that's the big question." Dr Aurelius sighs. "Unfortunately, I can't give you a good answer. The best I can do is that we don't think there are."

"That's not good enough." Peeta is starting to grow angry. I can tell they've had this conversation many times before. "That you 'think' I'm not a danger to Katniss just isn't good enough!" He's progressively becoming more agitated, at the end of his sentence he's screaming at Dr Aurelius.

Dr Aurelius pauses for a while, allowing Peeta time to calm down. "We have no reason to think there are any more tickers in your mind, Peeta. The first one was only planted just in case the Capitol would lose the war. Snow probably never thought it would be needed, his plan was to crush the resistance, and at the same time kill you – and with you, the ticker. There is no reason to think that he planned for a situation in which a second ticker necessary would be necessary. It would appear to him that losing the war was unlikely in the first place, not to mention you would also have to get through the effects of first ticker with Katniss still at your side for placing a second ticker targeting her to make any sense. There are too many "what ifs" in that scenario."

"You think," Peeta says mockingly.

"We think."

"So what's the plan?" I don't want to talk about tickers anymore. I prefer not to think too much about them.

"Before we decide our next step, we need to find out how you would feel if… Peeta lived in District 12."

So that's it. They have to be sure I can deal with living around him. They are going to put my welfare before Peeta's. If it comes down to it, they'll choose me. Again. I look at Haymitch, and I know what he's thinking. That he's been in this situation before. During our first Hunger Games, he thought I had the highest chance of survival, and canalized all his resources into helping me, at Peeta's expense. He's doing it again.

I know I have to weigh my words very carefully. "Peeta, I… I want you to come home."

There is a shocked silence around the table. Doesn't look like they saw that one coming.

Okay, so I know I may not come across as a particularly forgiving person in general. And what he's done should perhaps be unforgiveable - if only the situation hadn't been what it is. If we hadn't been who we are.

I reach out for his hand across the table, but he retracts it, out of my reach. "We've been through too much, Peeta… The Hunger Games. The Quarter Quell. The torture and its aftermath. The Rebellion. Finding our way back to life. Building a life together, here in District 12. I'm not leaving you again. When I was alone in 13, when you were captured by Snow… I would've give anything to switch places with you. **You** were supposed to live, yet I was the one they saved. The only reason they went back for you in the first place, was that I couldn't go on being their Mockingjay when I realized what they were doing to you. It was as if they were thinking you were some kind of appendix to me, perhaps a sort of weakness I had that they had to consider in their master plan - when deep down, I knew that **you** were the good one, the true one. The one worth saving. And you still are. Snow has screwed us over. Again. But we fight back, every time. I won't allow this to be an exception."

Dr Pachatcka looks shocked, I guess this is the first time he's seen a wife begging to be taken back after being assaulted and raped by her husband. But we're not your average couple. We're something more. We have a bond no one else shares. Dr Aurelius, on the other hand, doesn't look surprised. He knows us better. I guess he knows me better than I give him credit for.

"I don't want to endanger you again, Katniss. I couldn't live with myself if I hurt you again. I can't fall asleep next to you every night, wondering if another ticker is just waiting to go off, forcing me to kill you."

The past and the future, they both haunt us.

"I trust you, Peeta."

"I don't trust myself."

We're not going anywhere. Dr Aurelius interrupts our conversation. "I have a suggestion. Would you like to hear it?" I don't want to, but it's not really a question. "The first thing we wanted to find out today, was whether you would be able to live in District 12 together. And that seems to be the case." I nod, Peeta shakes his head vigorously. "Peeta, we have discussed this so many times… The remote likelihood of a second ticker. Let's disregard that for a second. I understand that living together in the same house might be too much for both of you at this point, but what if Katniss stays at Haymitch's place, and you move back home, Peeta?"

My heart makes a leap. It's more than I could hope for. I was afraid they'd ship him off to another district, where I wouldn't be able to locate him. Now he'll be living just across the street.

It takes a full hour to convince him, but finally Peeta agrees.


	12. Snow

Haymitch tells me that in the beginning, Peeta is only supposed to be home during the day, and sleep at the hospital. I think he's sedated on many nights, to keep the nightmares at bay.

I have nightmares, too, but I have to get through them alone, unaided by drugs. I have Haymitch, of course, but he usually passes out from the white liquor at night, so there's not much help to be had from him in the nightmare department. I know he's chasing away his own ghosts with the alcohol. I've been there myself, only my way of escape was morphling. I can't ever go down that road again. With my nerve endings seemingly raw and exposed, without the numbing effect of chemical substances, and without Peeta in my bed at night to help me stay sane, the nightmares are back with a vengeance. I can't remember them being this bad ever.

I'm not told the exact day Peeta will be home for the first time, so it's a surprise when I suddenly see him in the garden across the street as I come home from hunting. He's shoveling snow. He's lost a lot of muscle mass while in the hospital – he used to be so strong, and now I can see that he's struggling. I'm dragging a young deer after me in the snow. I'm exhausted, but proud of my prey.

"Hi."

"Hi." Peeta looks at me cautiously.

"Good to see you." I smile nervously.

"I'm just staying for a few hours. Dr Aurelius thinks it's good for me to… Take it gradually."

There aren't any tracks in the snow by the door. He hasn't been inside yet. "Have you been inside?"

He doesn't meet my eyes, only shakes his head.

"Come on." I walk past him, unlock the door, and go inside.

I have to carefully suppress my own feelings. I haven't been inside the house since it happened, either. It's freezing cold. I know it's been cleaned up, the writing in blood on the wall gone – but other than that, no one has been inside the house except to turn off the water so it won't freeze.

My body is shaking, I don't know if it's from cold and exhaustion, or something else. Think about the happy memories, Katniss. The happy memories outnumber the bad ones by far. To hide my helplessness, I start making a fire in the fireplace. It takes a while, because everything is so freezing cold, but finally I have a fire going. I huddle in front of the fire, warming my freezing fingers. Peeta stays a few meters away from me, looking lost. "It will be spring soon," I say. I can't wait for this winter to be over.

"Yeah." Peeta sits down next to me by the fire, hesitantly, as if he expects me to yell at him or attack him at any second. "It will take ages to heat up everything. It's freezing cold in here."

I realize he's not talking about just the house. "Yes. But spring is coming."

Peeta doesn't answer.


	13. Nightmares

Spring becomes early summer. Peeta has been officially discharged from the hospital, and has moved home. Dr Aurelius comes to see me one day, perhaps because I have ignored all his appointments so far. He gives me pretty strict orders about Peeta. "If you don't care about your own mental health, that's your problem, Katniss. I can't force you to talk to me. But Peeta is my patient, and he **is** talking to me, and I don't want you to destroy all the progress he's made."

So basically, I am ordered to back off, allow him to ease back into his old life – without me.

Peeta is clearly baking. A lot. Every day. He hasn't gone back to his job in the bakery – he owns the business, but thankfully, his employees are able to handle the business without him there. Peeta has always trusted people, and that includes trusting his employees. He gets his reward now – the baker who's now taking care of business, Arko Hantin, knew so much about every aspect of the bakery before Peeta was admitted to the hospital that he was able to run the place on his own. He also respected and admired his boss enough to stay. Peeta is baking for them, though – there is no way that one person can eat that many breads or cakes.

It's heartbreaking to see him sometimes. He's sitting on the porch at night. I've tried joining him, but more often than not he'll ask me to leave, his eyes downcast. The walls between us that we fought so hard to break down many years ago, are back up.

"He's protecting you," Haymitch slurs one night when I come back from Peeta, crying because he didn't want to see me. "That's always been his top priority. He's protecting you in the only way he knows how."

I yell at him and call him terrible things, run upstairs and cry on the bed. But deep down, I know that Haymitch is right.

And where am I in all of this mess? I don't know. Where Peeta says he is happy that he feels **something**, anything, I try very hard not to. I try to numb my brain with alcohol a few times, together with Haymitch, but body was never able to hold liquor very well – I end up getting sick, and have a terrible hangover every time. Besides, seeing Haymitch and the mess his life has become isn't exactly good advertisement for becoming an alcoholic.

So I hunt, I stay busy, I try not to feel.

But at night, my nightmares haunt me. All the feelings I try so hard to ignore by day return in the dark. They are a big mess of mutts, dying children, Prim, Peeta choking me, fire burning up my skin, voices whispering my name. Some nights I barely get any sleep at all. I sit by the kitchen table in the mornings, deathly pale except the dark bags underneath my eyes, and curse that bastard Snow - the hell he surely currently resides in, can't be much worse than this. I try to avoid sleeping at night, but I'm not able to. And when I do fall asleep, I'm an easy target for the nightmares.

One night, the nightmares are even worse than usual. I'm back in the first Hunger Games, I'm sitting on the Cornucopia. There are mutts all around me, only this time, Peeta is not with me. Instead, every single mutt has his blue eyes. And instead of Cato being slowly tortured to death, bit by bit, by the mutts, it's Prim. I see her blue eyes and blond braids, and hear her screams. She begs me to help her, but my feet and hands are glued to the cornucopia. I would throw myself down to her in an instant to save her, or more likely to die together with her, but all I can do is watch her die, hearing her screams.

I'm woken by someone shaking my shoulders, hard. "Katniss… Katniss! Wake up!" I hear screams ringing in my ear, and as in a fog I realize that they're not Prim's screams, but my own. "Wake up, Katniss! It's not real!" There, in the darkness, is Peeta, in my bedroom. I can just barely make out the contours of his face and body. Still in a haze, I cling to him, crying. My nails dig into the naked skin of his back, I must be hurting him, but he doesn't flinch. He strokes my hair, whispers reassuring words in my ear, like he's done so many times, on so many other nights. The smell of him, of cinnamon and sun and man, is intoxicating. Somewhere along the line I end up crying not because of the nightmare, but because I'm so relieved to be held by him again, for being saved from the darkness. He must realize that the worst is over, because he releases his grip on me, puts some distance between us, while holding my upper arms firmly with his hands.

"I heard you screaming from across the street," he says, almost whispering. "And I just couldn't… Not come. I thought Haymitch would help you, but then when the screaming just continued, on and on, I understood that…"

"Drunk," I choke back, still crying.

"Is he always drunk at night?"

I nod.

"Doesn't he ever help you with the nightmares?"

I shake my head. "He's too busy chasing away his own demons. With liquor. He's practically unconscious every night." Peeta curses under his breath. "Don't me mad at him," I say, I'm suddenly so desperately tired. "He does the best he can."

Peeta nods. He gets up, walks to towards the door, getting ready to go back across the street. To the big, empty bed in our house. Suddenly I can't stand it anymore. "Stay with me? Please?" I can hardly recognize my own voice, I sound like a scared, little girl. Scared of the dark.

Peeta just stands there, frozen. It's too dark for me to see his face clearly. All I can hear, is his strained, ragged breathing. Finally, it's as if he snaps out of it. "Are you sure?" he says hesitantly.

I don't answer, I just open up the covers, and he slips in behind me. He's had years of practice with this particular movement. He wraps his arms around me, like he did for that first time in the cave, in the sleeping bag, so long ago. My slender body fits in perfectly in front of his bigger one. I can feel his warm breath in my hair.

I fall asleep, and this time, the mutts aren't there.

* * *

_********__I think I'll just leave this storyline for now - things are looking better for our favorite HG couple. We all know they end up having two children in the epilogue, so there will be a happy ending. I'm not sure I'll write about all the details on how they end up getting back together, as I think they took such an important step in this chapter. I may change my mind about it in the future, we'll see. _

**_The next chapter will take place several years before this one, and it will be FUN! No more angst. And includes a lemon. Yes, the lemons are back! Yay!_**


	14. The hammock

**_So… Off to another scene/storyline! This time we're going back in time, to sometime after the first chapters, but years before the ticker. In other words: Katniss and Peeta are doing it, they are young and in love, and that's pretty much all you need to know. _**

**_Lemon alert! Yay!_**

* * *

Peeta suggested we hang a hammock between two trees in our back yard. At first I didn't really see the point – I'm not used to having spare time in which I can actually relax and enjoy myself, and that includes spending time in a hammock. But he insisted, saying a hammock is a small piece of heaven on earth.

I thought that sounded a bit inflated, to put it mildly, but relented. If it made him happy, some rope and fabric between two trees in our back yard was a small price to pay.

To my surprise, I fell in love, and I've spent way more time in the hammock this summer than Peeta has. Our back yard is big and pretty secluded, with trees sheltering us from the neighbors and the street, making it feel almost like a small forest.

I'm lying in the hammock as usual, waiting for Peeta to come home from the bakery. I'm eating an apple, reading a book about making bows which Effie got for me from the Capitol. The Capitol isn't all bad, once in a while they actually produce something useful and interesting.

Suddenly, Peeta is standing over me, blocking the sun, kissing me on the lips. I didn't notice him coming home at all, I was too absorbed in my book. "Hey gorgeous," he says, handing me a paper bag of cheese buns and then lying down next to me. It's a tight fit with both of us, but thankfully, Peeta got us a pretty wide hammock.

"How was your day?"

"Good." He kisses me again, and this time the kiss is longer, demanding. The apple falls from my hand, down on the lawn. I'm starting to understand that he doesn't really have neither cheese buns nor apples on his mind right now. "Very long, though."

I ask him innocently: "Oh, why was it long? Was it boring?"

"No." He's started kissing my neck. "It's just that all day… I've been thinking about you in this hammock. And how much I want to fuck you senseless in it."

My pulse surges at his words. Peeta may seem like the perfect Mr Nice Guy, and he is - but when he's in the right mood, he can actually be a bit of a dirty talker. And he knows that I love it. "In the hammock? Sounds kind of… dangerous."

"Are you afraid Haymitch is going to walk in on us? I just dropped by him on the way home. He gave him a bottle of liquor if he promised he would stay indoors the rest of the day."

I can't help but laugh. "Could you be any more obvious?"

Peeta laughs, too. "No."

"Actually, I was thinking more of whether we'll be able to, well, not fall out… during?"

"That slight element of danger only adds to the excitement, doesn't it?" He doesn't give me the chance to answer, catching my mouth in another passionate kiss. The cheese buns end up on the lawn as well, keeping the apple and quite quickly also my tank top company. I don't even bother to take his t-shirt off, going instead straight for the fly of his jeans, only stopping slightly to caress the warm skin of his flat stomach, muscular and fit. Once inside his boxers I find him already fully erect. When I start stroking him, he groans: "I've had to hide from people half the day, I've been thinking about you all the time and had a hard-on pretty much constantly. I had to ask Anna to take care of the shop, I've been baking. Alone." He pauses to suck on my neck, he's going to give me a pretty sizable hickey, but I don't care. "Wouldn't want to scare off the customers, after all, being the horny baker."

"But you are a horny baker" I groan into his ear, and he grins. "MY horny baker."

"True, but not as in a pervert horny baker, hopefully?"

I can't help but laugh. "Well, sometimes…"

His grip on me tightens as he laughs against my neck. I'm glad Haymitch has been bribed to stay inside for the rest of the day, but remind myself that we still have to try to keep it down, who knows if others might walk by. We don't get a lot of visitors but Haymitch, though.

Peeta pushes up my skirt, murmuring something about my choice of clothing being very convenient for a quickie. When he slips off my panties, we both almost fall out of the hammock. There is definitely an element of danger in having sex outdoors, it would seem. "Careful," I say, but the rest of the sentence disappears from my brain as his hand has found my clit. He knows me so well, he knows exactly what makes me go wild. Within seconds he has me panting, two of his fingers are pushing in and out of me while his thumb is working on my clit, and I'm wet already, ready for him. He's capturing my lips in yet another kiss, we kiss until we have to break it, gasping for air. We're lying on the side, facing each other, because this seems to be the position in which the hammock is the most stable. While the element of danger might be exciting, actually breaking a bone isn't. His cock is burning hot between my legs, and I lift up one leg to allow him access – quickly. I can feel the tip of him entering me, and I moan loudly.

Then, as if from far away, I hear something… Someone… "Catnip?"

I turn my head – and freeze.

Oh fuck.

Gale.

Who looks like he's just seen a ghost.

Or perhaps, more accurately, his old hunting partner, very much alive, screwing his one-time rival in a hammock.

Peeta must've felt my body going stiff, noticing that my gasp wasn't one of pleasure. The head of his cock slips out of me as he turns around quickly to see what I'm looking at behind his back.

Too quickly.

We lose balance,the hammock was already pretty unsteady to begin with considering the activity going on in it, and end up falling down onto the lawn. First Peeta, then I land pretty much on top of him. We are both half naked. Peeta whimpers in pain, as I land with one elbow in his stomach and the other nearly in his eye. Our limbs are tangled into each other, there's a hurried and confusing moment when Peeta tries to scramble for his jeans, but they are out of his reach, so he tries to hide his erection with his hands. My panties are out of reach, too, but thankfully I can just pull my skirt down. But where the hell is my tank top?

Then I realize that Gale is holding it in his hand.

I really don't know how this situation could possibly be worse than it is.

"Uhm… Would you mind giving me my tank top?"

Stellar, Katniss. Practical as always.

Gale seems dumbfounded. Covering my breasts with one arm, I actually have to get up to take it from him, quickly slipping it on while discreetly kicking Peeta's jeans in his direction. He scrambles to put them on as quickly as possible.

"Well, you two have obviously become quite… chummy… since the last time I saw you."

Oh yeah, that would've been back in District 13. "Uh… Things change."

"Obviously." He's dark and handsome, casually dressed, yet still cool and stylish as always. Gale could make any outfit look good, and he knows it. "I guess I… should've told you I was coming."

"That would've been… nice." Peeta has put his jeans on, and I guess it makes him feel a bit less uncomfortable, even though his erection is still clearly visible through the jeans. He surprises me by putting his arm possessively around my waist. There is no mistaking what message he's sending to Gale. He's clearly marking his territory - if he'd been a dog, he probably would've lifted his leg and peed on me.

"I'm going to… Go say hello to Haymitch."

"Okay." I feel like a fool, but I have no idea what to say.

"Would you… er, like to come to dinner? At, say eight?" I can't believe Peeta is actually inviting Gale to dinner, considering he just caught us screwing in the hammock.

"Uhm… Sounds good. I'll see you later?"

And I can't believe Gale accepted the invitation!

Gale quickly makes his retreat, and I have to hide the sounds of my nervous giggling in Peeta's t-shirt so Gale won't hear it as he leaves. "You invite him for **dinner**?" I manage to whisper, in between the fits of laughter.

"I can't believe he walked in on us. What is he doing here?" Peeta hisses back, quickly dragging me into the kitchen. He puts me to work on the dinner, the easy tasks that I can't mess up while he's doing the real cooking.

"I have no idea. I guess we'll find out soon enough."

"Do you think he'll tell Haymitch?"

"Yes."

"Perfect."

"Well, I suppose it's one of the hazards of outdoor sex…"

I guess dinner will be interesting.

* * *

_**So this chapter is to be continued... I obviously need to write about the dinner! But I need some help here, what do you think happens? Please write a review to tell me, or send me a PM. I'm usually several chapters ahead of the chapter I post, but this time I've actually only written this chapter. So I don't know what will happen during the dinner. **_

_**What do you think? Please review - and give me some ideas! **_


	15. The dinner

_**Thank you to Resisting-Moonlight - this chapter is dedicated to you. :) You'll get what you wished for. ;)**_

* * *

It's ten to eight, and my throat feels dry. We haven't really discussed just how either of us feels about this dinner, not to mention Gale catching us in the act, or Gale being back in District 12 in general. We haven't really talked, period. Peeta's just ordering me around in the kitchen, still gently, but definitely with an authority that makes me do what he says without questioning him. The kitchen is his domain. I can mess up pretty much anything in here, so he gives me easy, fool proof tasks such as cutting vegetables. He does the rest, including choosing the menu.

The dinner seems to have a lemon theme. It's chicken marinated in honey, lemon and some herbs I can never remember the names of despite being the daughter of a healer, and lemon pie with whipped cream for dessert. I'm not really sure what all the lemons are about, but lemons are good, I guess.

Five to eight. I set the table. Gale couldn't always be trusted to show up on time back in our hunting days, but I have a feeling he will be today. I wonder if he's still at Haymitch's place, and what he might've told our mentor over a glass or three. I shudder at the thought.

It's eight o'clock and right on cue, the doorbell rings. It's not something I'm used to hearing – we rarely get visitors, and Haymitch always just walks right on in. I dry my hands nervously on my skirt, and open the door.

Oh crap.

Haymitch is here as well. I guess I shouldn't be surprised, I guess he wouldn't want to miss the show.

"Hey, sweetheart," he smirks at me, and I immediately know that Gale told him. Everything. "You look flushed. Busy day?"

I blush furiously, and I really want to just slam the door in their faces, but somehow manage to smile and say: "Yes." I guess at least a little bit of what Effie told me stuck. Manners, Katniss.

"I would've brought you a fancy bottle of wine, but you know, nothing of that sort in my place. So I got you this," and he hands me a bottle of white liquor. It's already been opened, it's only half full.

"Charming."

Gale actually brought me flowers. It feels weird that we're suddenly at the point where we are formally inviting him for dinner. He's wearing a casual yet smart shirt which looks expensive, and his pants are surely tailored, because they fit him perfectly. It's kind of hard not to notice just how well his pants hug his butt, which has always been spectacular. Even Katniss the hunting partner back before the reaping couldn't help but notice that. He looks absolutely amazing, and knowing Gale, he knows it. He could have any girl in District 12 back in our hunting days, and he probably had quite a few of them too, even though he never told me about it.

I only set the table for three, but thankfully Peeta must've heard from our conversation in the hallway that Haymitch came as well, because when we enter the kitchen, there are four plates on the dinner table.

It's not that awkward at first. Peeta is such a great host, he always makes everyone feel at ease. He asks Gale all the right questions, about his job in the Capitol and what he's doing here. Turns out Gale is going to have some talks with the mayor about opening a hospital in District 12, then he'll open the new town hall, and do a quick tour of the district. Peeta also tells entertaining stories from the bakery, making sure everyone is involved in the conversation, even me, and the chicken is perfect, as usual. I try to say as little as possible, and avoid meeting Gale's and Haymitch's eyes as much as I can. Gale looks a bit embarrassed, but Haymitch seems to be really enjoying the show, his eyes are sparking over his liquor glass. He's the only one who's drinking that vile stuff, the rest of us drink wine from our cellar.

I almost think that perhaps we'll actually get through the evening without any major incidents, when I guess Haymitch can't resist temptation any more.

"So, how's that hammock working out for you kids?"

The silence in the room is palpable. Not even Peeta can think of something to say.

"You know," Haymitch says to Gale, "I'm the one who helped them hang it up." Turning to Peeta, he continues: "You should've asked for advice from someone who's been around the block before, son, I could've saved you from embarrassment and possible grievous bodily harm." He takes another sip of liquor. "Peeta, did you know that the human penis can actually **break**? Even though there aren't any bones in it like in most animals'? It's a medical emergency. Left untreated, it could render you impotent for life."

Peeta seems to choke on his lemon chicken.

"Haymitch!" I snap, like a mother scolding a disobedient child, but this particular child doesn't care at all about etiquette.

"You should've stopped by my place first, Gale, I could've warned you not to come unannounced unless you're prepared to see some skin. I'm pretty used to these two lovebirds going at it, after all, I'm their closest neighbor. And they like to sleep with their bedroom window open, and well, they don't always **sleep** at night, if you catch my drift. They're not being very discreet, to put it mildly."

I'm appalled, and it gets even worse when he starts imitating what is clearly me panting Peeta's name. His imitation is pretty good, too. "HAYMITCH!" I yell at him, and Haymitch laughs so hard he's literally almost falling off his chair. Gale seems embarrassed, but there's a small smile visible on his lips.

"It's okay, Haymitch, I… get the point. It's, uh… Not that unexpected."

I suddenly wonder just how much the new President knows about our life here in District 12. How closely do they watch us – their Mockingjay and her lover?

As if sensing my questions, he continues: "I knew that you're living together, I just hadn't quite expected the… uhm, public display of affection."

"It wasn't public," I hiss at him. "We were in the privacy of our own garden!"

"And I tried ringing the doorbell, but no one answered, so I decided to check if you were in the garden. It's not as if you complained when I came on unexpected visits before." That suddenly sounds so intimate, which it wasn't.

"That was a long time ago." More like in another life. Where we are now - on opposite sides of a table, dressed in nice clothes, our stomachs full, with Peeta at my side - those hungry, yet somehow innocent days in District 12 seem so distant. Who was I then? Who am I now? And who is Gale?

I don't know him anymore.

"Yes it was, Catnip."

I'm starting to resent him using my nickname, the one that's reserved for his use only. It, too, seems too intimate somehow, but I can't bring myself to tell him.

Gale puts his fork down. "You seem to be doing really well. Both of you. I'm glad," he says, and this time he sounds sincere. Our eyes meet over the table. "When you left District 13, I quite frankly wondered if I'd ever see you again. If you'd ever manage to live a normal life separately, let alone together. After everything the Capitol had done to you… And District 13 too, for that matter."

I nod slowly. The Capitol used us, but so did District 13. Peeta and I were pawns in someone else's game, all along. The players just changed along the way. At least Gale, too, sees that.

"We're okay, Gale," Peeta says quietly. "It's taken a long time, and not all days are good, but… Most of them are. And on the bad days, we chase off the ghosts together." He takes my hand in his underneath the table, gives it a light squeeze. I smile to him, I'm almost surprised that he looks a bit unclear, and realize that it's because there are tears in my eyes, I didn't even notice them welling up.

"Well, congratulations, Peeta," Gale murmurs. "I guess you found out what to do with her after all."

"Oh boy, did he find out," Haymitch guffaws, and this time Peeta chuckles as well, but guiltily stops when I give him a kick in the shin underneath the table.

"I guess I found that I couldn't survive without him." Both Peeta and Gale look surprised at me.

"You… Heard us?" They hadn't known that I was awake during their little conversation that night in the secret room in the Capitol, when we were all really waiting to die. None of us ever thought we'd survive our mission, not at that point anyway.

I nod slowly. "Yes. I heard you. At first I was really hurt by what you said. I thought it meant that you both viewed me as a cold-hearted, selfish person, only intent on my own survival. But now I've realized that you were right, Gale. Only it wasn't survive in a literal sense, as in I wouldn't have **lived** without Peeta. Because my heart would've beat without him. I would've gotten through the days, one by one. But I don't think I'd ever live a full life again without him, if I'd be trying to pick up the pieces that were left of my life after the Hunger Games all alone... I would only… exist. I wouldn't really live."

My dandelion in the spring.

I look up at Peeta, and I realize he's crying. I'm suddenly embarrassed that I told him this intensely personal information in front of Gale and Haymitch, when it probably should've been reserved for his ears only. But then again, Haymitch and Gale are such an important part of our history, and also our present, at least Haymitch. What Gale is, though, is somewhat more complicated.

* * *

After dinner, Gale and I sit on the porch in the warm summer night. Haymitch has passed out, he's lying under the table. Peeta is cleaning up in the kitchen – both Gale and I offered to help him, but he refused. I think he's giving us some time alone on purpose, and I'm grateful he's so considerate.

I haven't had more than a glass of wine, but I rarely drink any alcohol at all, and it's making me slightly heady. Gale has had some more wine than I have, but he's so much bigger than me, and besides, I guess he's used to holding his liquor. I've seen pictures of him in gossip magazines, not that I'd ever buy them, but there are some in the bakery. He's in a lot of them, usually with a different girl in his lap in every issue, often with a drink in his hand. I'm sure he works a lot, but he does seem to have a lot of fun, too. Because his girlfriends, lovers, party friends, whatever they are, are pretty common knowledge in all of Panem, it feels okay to ask him. "So… Is there someone special waiting for you to get home?"

"Oh yes, there is," Gale says with a smile. "In fact, there are several special someones."

I can't hold back a giggle. "Really? And do they know about each other?"

He laughs, then shrugs. "Sure. Can't keep anything secret from the tabloids. I don't know, I guess I I just like to… Keep my options open. I don't feel comfortable committing to anyone at this time. I'm working a lot, and… Well, I just don't… want to invest so much emotion into a relationship." There is a missing word in the end of his sentence, and I know what it is – it's "again".

"We never really had a relationship," I whisper.

He sighs. "No, we didn't. Not a real one, anyway. But it wasn't because of me." I know he's right.

"When you talked about running away, living in the woods… You meant us running away as in… a couple? Really… You know, living together? Not just being hunting partners, but being… something more?"

His gray eyes don't meet mine. "Yes. I guess I did. I knew that you weren't… in that place, though. I was hoping you'd come around eventually." He finally lifts his eyes to look at me, our gray Seam eyes lock.

"Perhaps I would," I finally answer. "Eventually. It would've been madness, though. Mostly because of the ch…" I can't finish my sentence.

"The children?" he says softly.

I nod. Without the Capitol's birth control shots, there's no doubt in my mind that I'd end up getting pregnant in that forest sooner or later. With Gale. Just the thought of giving birth in the forest, all alone, not to mention the overwhelming fear of the hunger, the cold, getting caught and murdered by the Capitol for running away – and having to protect a baby… Imagining what it would be like to lose your **child** to the Capitol… I shudder. Losing Peeta nearly destroyed me. As did losing my sister. I am absolutely positive that losing a child would mean I'd never get up again.

Ever.

"It feels strange having this conversation with you when I know that your children will be Peeta's, not mine," he confesses, and I am, against my will, impressed by his honesty and his courage.

"I won't be having children with Peeta."

He lifts an eyebrow. "Says who?"

"Says me."

"And what does Peeta say?"

"That's really none of your business," I answer stiffly.

"Still afraid?" He asks softly.

I won't meet his gray gaze. I have to fight back my tears. I nod, slowly. "I just can't… can't make myself that vulnerable."

"Do you sometimes think… what if? What if you hadn't been reaped."

I pause, considering his question. "I did, before. In the end, I had to stop. It was driving me crazy, it was making me worse, not better. I can't think about what I'd rather have – a life with Prim alive and without the nightmares, and quite possibly with you by my side - or life with Peeta. Here and now. I was never given a choice, anyway, my life as it is today is a result of the Capitol forcing children to fight to the death for their own entertainment. They took my life away, my family such as it was, and left me in ruins. What I am today, I am only thanks to Peeta. And Haymitch and Greasy Sae. I can't think about who I would've been if I hadn't been reaped. It eventually leads to a choice between Peeta and Prim, and I…" I can't bring myself to finish my sentence.

"It was never a choice you had, anyway," he murmurs. "It was only a result of events that were out of your control." He pauses. "Are you happy, Katniss?" I notice that he's not calling me Catnip anymore, and I'm glad. I'm not Catnip, **his** Catnip, anymore. I'm another person, another woman. I've grown up, and so has he. We have grown away from each other. All that remains now, are cherished but distant memories of freedom. Companionship. Hunting together in the forest we both loved so much. He's moved on to meetings, campaigns, parties and hot lovers. I'm still in the forest, hanging on to it as one of my lifelines to sanity.

I smile, my eyes meeting his. "I am. On most days anyway, when the shadows aren't threatening to overwhelm me."

"You really do love him, don't you?"

"Yes." No reservations this time.

He surprises me by kissing me on the forehead. "I'm happy for you, Katniss." He smiles wryly. "And please let me know if he ever hurts you, and I'll come here and kick his ass for you."

I chuckle. "I'm perfectly capable of kicking his ass myself."

He shakes his head. "You'd kick anyone's ass but Peeta's, sweetheart." He seems to have adopted Haymitch's form of endearment, but it's okay, at least for now.

I shrug.

"Are you happy?" I ask him.

He nods. "Yes, I am. I love my job, I feel that I'm really making a difference. I know you can't imagine working for any kind of government or system," he says with a smile, and I roll my eyes because we both know it's true, "but I can. I also like the… distractions," he adds, and this time his smile his wicked. I know he talks about the parties, the dinners, the women. And I realize how little is left of the Katniss and Gale that used to roam the forests together, inseparable. The adults who are today are nothing like the teenagers we once were. Where there once was a promise or a possibility of us becoming something more, there is now only distance. We're looking at each other across an abyss, one that I know we will never cross, and I'm okay with that.

"Are you happy?" He returns my question.

I don't have to think about my answer. "Yes." I can't help but beam up at him, and his breath catches. "Well, most of the time, anyway. But the times when I'm not, it's not because of Peeta."

He surprises me by giving me a hug. He holds me close, not like a lover, but like a long-time friend. I breathe in his scent. He smells of man, of sunshine, of an expensive Capitol fragrance. There is still some of his old scent under there – he doesn't smell of smoke from the fire, leather and coal anymore, like he used to back before I was reaped, and our paths diverged forever. He still smells of Gale, but this new, foreign, grown-up Gale. I have to blink back the tears. Are they for what could've been, or for how far apart we've grown? Are they for never being able to know if his bomb was the one that killed Prim? Or for being glad I'll never know? Are they for never forgiving? I don't know, and it doesn't matter.

"Be happy, Katniss." He kisses me on the lips. The kiss is quick, dry and chaste.

I know he's saying goodbye.

"I better get back to the hotel, it's getting late. I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow, and I'll leave tomorrow night, just after the end of my official program here."

"Okay." My voice is low. "Would you mind taking Haymitch with you when you leave? You're the one who brought him, after all," I say, with a teasing grin. "He's woken up after binge drinking in our house before, and it's not pleasant."

He chuckles. "I can imagine. Think Peeta can help me carry him over to his house?"

"Sure."

We walk inside. I meet Peeta's questioning eyes when we enter the kitchen. I'm glad he's, well, Peeta. Who knows me well enough to give me this time together alone with Gale, to get… closure. I walk over to him and kiss him on the lips. This kiss is quick, too, but it conveys so much more. "Can you help us get Haymitch on his feet and on his way to his own bed?"

We rouse Haymitch with some cold water in his face, and under much swearing and many empty threats Gale and Peeta support him across the street. Haymitch is still cursing at them when they leave him, but I know he'll have forgotten in the morning. I hear him howling something about hammocks and horny neighbors, and I can't help but laugh.

When we're in bed that night, Peeta holds me close without talking much. His fingertips play with one of my ears, lightly, as if exploring it. "How was it?" he finally asks. "To see Gale again."

I pause to think, to really **feel** how it was. Finally I answer: "Good." The silence is heavy. I know he wants me to continue. "We're not the same people we were. I'm not his Catnip anymore. I'm your Katniss."

This time he smiles. "Oh, you're entirely your own, Katniss," he breathes in my ear. "You remember back when we talked about if we would've been together without the reaping? And you answered no?"

I nod. It was the truth, even though it hurt.

"Seeing him tonight was like seeing an alternate future played out right in front of me. It was… unsettling."

"I can imagine," I say. "But for me, it was mostly a reminder of… How far apart we've grown. We will always play an essential part in each other's past, but we don't in each other's present, not to mention future. And that's okay. We're both okay with it. He'll go back to his Capitol life of important meetings and what I'm sure are lots of beautiful lovers. And I stay here in District 12, where I belong, hunting in the forest, eating cheese buns and squirrels and sleeping in this bed with you."

Peeta smiles lazily. "It's a pretty perfect life, isn't it?"

I smile back. I know it's one of those rare smiles that light up my entire face that I save for special occasions and, well, him. It's a smile that's reserved for Peeta. I kiss him.

"Yes, it is."


End file.
